The Trouble With Currents
by Queen'sJester
Summary: Harry and Draco struggle to hide their relationship.  Meanwhile, Voldemort and his merry men are up to no good, as usual, prompting a tragedy that changes the alliances of several unlikely people. Slash, HPDM
1. Nightmares and Daydreams

**Welcome back, everyone! :D**

**This was meant to be two chapters, but because of the TWENTY REVIEWS my prompts got, I thought you guys deserved something extra. "Something" being an additional five thousand words. All afternoon. Just for you guys.**

**A big thank-you to all who reviewed! You guys inspired me!**

**Warning: Well, there's a little of everything here. SLASH. :D**

**Disclaimer: NOT MINE. There. Happy now, J.K.R.?**

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><p>"Harry!" Ron burst into the Gryffindor Common Room on a misty, frosted Friday afternoon, panting heavily. "Hermione! You won't believe what's happened!"<p>

"What, Ron?" Hermione mumbled, never lifting her flitting gaze from the hefty textbook in her lap. Harry sat back in his chair, his eyebrows raised in a curious invitation for Ron to explain.

He glanced around, making sure no unlucky first-years lurked nearby, and then leaned close, gesturing for Harry and Hermione to do the same.

"Dad finally dug up enough dirt on the Malfoys to search their Manor, and they found all sorts of incriminating documents and artifacts!"

Harry's gut clenched, and he felt his fingers tighten around his quill, crushing some of the finer filaments.

Unaware of his friend's distress, Ron continued eagerly: "So they're skipping the trial, and the entire Malfoy family is getting the Kiss-"

"_What!_" Harry's quill stabbed into his palm as it snapped. Ron's head jerked in Harry's direction.

"It's not all that uncommon in times of war, Harry-" Hermione stated uncertainly.

Harry felt sick with dread. "Has it happened? Are they…?"

"Well, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy are definitely Kissed by now, and a dementor just arrived a few minutes ago to Kiss the ferret. That's how I found out about it, Dawlish was…. Where are you going?"

Harry sprang to his feet and dashed from the common room, his heart thudding unevenly. _Please not Draco, please, please, please, not him, please…!_

A moment of feverish panic washed over him as he realized that Draco could be anywhere, in the castle, anywhere at all-

But a heavy chill in the air was a superior guide to even the Marauder's Map. Harry flew down the stairs and tore open the doors to the Great Hall.

A blast of icy wind ruffled his hair, filled with the reek of old and new carrion, and Harry's wordless scream of horror echoed around the Hall as Draco's form fell from the dementor's arms and crumpled silently on the floor.

Harry bolted upright, his breath coming in unsteady gasps and pants as he struggled to regain his bearings. Dorm room. He was in his dorm room. It was dark, the pitch-black of the pre-dawn hour which invites nightmares and unseen shadows to skulk about.

But it was _not_ the Great Hall.

It was _not _mid-afternoon.

It wasn't even Friday. It was very, very early on Saturday morning.

Harry collapsed back onto his mattress, staring into the bulk of nothing above his head. It was the third nightmare of the week that had to do with Draco. Or rather, a mix-up in what side Draco belonged to, and his subsequent imprisonment or death.

He shuddered, hugging his chest. The dementors were a recent addition to what was already a horrifying scenario. He never wanted to see another of those black-clad buggers again in his life. Somehow, he doubted he'd be that fortunate.

For the meantime, Harry turned on his side and tried to close his eyes.

* * *

><p>Harry stared at himself in the mirror. On a normal Saturday morning, he would be more than content to hop in and out of the shower, drag on his school robes (adding a scarf or coat now that the weather had cooled so drastically), and pulling a comb through his hair once or twice before giving up. But today was different. Today was special.<p>

It was the one month anniversary of the duel that had resulted in all of this mess. Harry had protested the idea of celebrating such an occurrence, stating that they should really have an anniversary on the day that they _broke _the curse, but Draco had simply suggested that they do both, instead. Then he smiled that impish smile, and his eyes had sparkled, and-

Harry scrubbed his hands over his face, trying to focus on his reflection. Simply put, tonight was their first official "date". They had agreed to dash to the room of requirement right at precisely five o'clock, which meant that if Hermione carried out her threat of making him do homework all afternoon, Harry would have absolutely _no _time to try to tame his hair, of spell ink off of his fingers, or change his clothes. Which meant that he had to figure out how to make himself presentable, and stay that way.

Charming his hands to repel ink was no walk in the park, but it was still the easiest part of the endeavor. He was rubbish at taming his hair, and getting the ink off without losing some fingers was a tricky endeavor even for Hermione- for Harry, it was downright dangerous.

He had considered asking Hermione for help, but over the past three weeks, though Ron had reverted to his carefree self, he had caught her looking at him askance, as though she had been warned that he might spontaneously burst into flames. It didn't help that whenever they passed Draco in the hall, Harry made a point not to look in his direction out of a fear of blushing or smiling like a loon.

After all, Harry hadn't found the courage to come clean about their relationship to his best friends. He and Draco had met with Dumbledore four times since the plant had been killed by the combined efforts of their teachers, and the three of them had discussed the future of Draco and his family. While Dumbledore had insisted that nobody could know about the change in allegiance, he hadn't explicitly insisted that Harry had to keep it from Ron and Hermione. Harry hadn't _asked_, but Dumbledore would've sent him some sort of sign to indicate whether he shouldn't tell.

Nearly three weeks had passed, and the winter break was nearly upon them. Harry and Draco had, after some in-depth conversation, each spoken with Dumbledore about staying in the castle over the winter holiday, but Narcissa Malfoy and Molly Weasley had presented disturbingly similar reactions when the idea had been proposed (separately). But Dumbledore had intervened, skillfully not mentioning Harry to Narcissa or Draco to Molly, and the adults had decided that as long as Draco and Harry went home to their respective families on Christmas Day, it would all be fine. Molly had still grumbled as she terminated the fire-call, and Narcissa had seemed even more pinched and forced than usual (in Harry's opinion).

But now, Harry and Draco were going to have time to themselves after what seemed like ages. It had seemed like they could never so much as glance at one another without drawing some type of attention, and they'd barely had a chance to meet inside their Room. Now it was almost like taking a vacation to a foreign castle for Christmas. After all, Dumbledore had told them that so far, no one else had signed up to stay at the school. Everyone was striving for normalcy amidst the chaos and uncertainty of Voldemort's random attacks. Although it was probably safer at Hogwarts than anywhere else, families were trying to stick together.

"Harry? You coming?" Harry jumped at Ron's voice, startled out of his progressively darker train of thought. "We'll be late for breakfast," his friend added longingly.

Harry took a last look at himself in the mirror. His hair was residing comfortably in its normal, horrendous style, his fingertips were faintly spotty with black and blue ink, and his clothes were average at best. "Yeah," he said, feeling marginally downtrodden. "I'm coming."

* * *

><p>Hermione was alarmingly fussy about how tired Harry looked when he and Ron met her in the common room to walk to breakfast together. ("Oh, Harry! You should really try not to worry yourself about what's going on out there… It's not healthy! There's nothing you can do!" And while Harry felt a cold, hard weight drop into his stomach whenever he deceived his friends, he could only picture their faces in his numerous nightmares as they turned against him.)<p>

Breakfast passed in a blur of half-listening to Hermione map out their studying schedule ("Charms for the first hour, and then we'll cover last Tuesday's Transfiguration class- I noticed both of you slacking off, don't think I didn't! – and then Potions for another hour…") and Ron stuffing his face with sausage and eggs and toast.

It was on the way back that Harry ran into trouble. Or, rather, Ginny.

"Harry!" she called, making a beeline for the trio as they exited the Great Hall. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

"Er. Sure," Harry said awkwardly, watching in slight panic as Ron and Hermione gave Ginny a quick hello and continued to the common room.

"Come on, the Charms corridor is so much warmer than it is here," Ginny chirped, and Harry reluctantly followed her up a flight of stairs and into the hall. Once she was a few paces into the passage, Ginny leaned against a wall, sighing happily. "Much better, right?"

"…right." Harry answered sluggishly. That time, though, it wasn't his fault. Standing in the middle of the corridor, a mere twenty-five paces away, were Draco, Pansy, and Blaise. And naturally, Draco looked impeccable. "So, what did you want to talk about?"

Ginny brightened, her eyes turning vaguely dreamy as she opened her mouth to talk.

Harry tried- really, he did –but no matter how intently he looked at Ginny's face as she spoke animatedly to him, his gaze would drift above her head, where he could see Draco standing a ways away in the hall. He was talking to Blaise and Pansy, and leaning against the wall with such grace and ease that Harry's eyes couldn't help but stray.

"…and so then, it occurred to me how great it would be if this summer, you came straight to the burrow with us instead of going back to your aunt and uncle's house. I mean, it would cut down on the amount of time that you spent travelling, and alone, and you'd be safer, right? And it would, you know, give us time to talk-"

Harry was nodding absently, flicking his gaze from Ginny to Draco and back, trying to be attentive. Every so often Draco would glance up and smile the tiniest bit before turning his attention back to his friends.

"I mean, not that we would _have _to talk, it's just an idea, it's not even that important-"

Draco said something to Pansy and Blaise, who nodded, and began walking towards where Harry and Ginny were. Draco stayed put for a moment, his stare burning into Harry's, before walking the opposite direction and ducking into an empty classroom.

"Forget it, it was silly of me to bring up, I'll just-"

"That sounds fine," Harry broke in, forcing himself to look into Ginny's eager eyes. "I-I mean, I'll talk to Dumbledore about where I'll stay- for all I know, I'll be going to Snuffles'…"

"Right, of course," Ginny said quickly, flashing a smile and flicking her hair over her shoulder. Her eyes looked slightly dimmer, but it could've been Harry's imagination. "So, where are you headed? Common room?"

"N-no, I need to talk to-" What hallway was this, again? "Professor Flitwick. You go ahead, I might need to wait a while."

She nodded, looking disappointed, and walked in the same direction as Pansy and Blaise.

Harry waited until she was out of sight before hurrying to the empty classroom and clambering inside.

It was dim, but not overly so. Draco was sitting in an enormous plush chair that had the same basic structure as the chairs for each individual desk- Harry suspected that he had transfigured one of them.

Harry leaned against the door slightly, looking at Draco. He was the quintessential Malfoy: perfectly sleek blonde hair, perfectly crisp white shirt (he'd lain his top robes on a nearby, leaving him in his ironed black trousers, shirt, and green tie), and perfectly at ease stance. The only thing missing was his mask- the perfect mask of indifferent disdain that Harry hated so much. In its place was a genuine smile that made an answering one tug on Harry's lips.

"You sure know how to keep a guy waiting," Draco chuckled, leaning back in the lush armchair. "are you going to stay over there?"

Harry shook his head slightly, drinking in Draco's familiar form for another moment before straightening off of the door and stepping closer slowly. As soon as he was close enough, Draco reached out and pulled Harry closer by his belt loops until he was being pulled onto Draco's lap. The blonde's eyes sparked as he reeled Harry in, filling with a recognized mixture of heat and affection. Harry's heart stuttered, and Draco drew him in for a kiss, keeping it chaste for the moment. When they broke apart, Harry drew a breath slowly. "Hello."

Draco smiled slightly. "Hello to you, too, sleepy." He lifted an elegant hand and gently traced the half-moons beneath Harry's eyes with his fingertips. "You're not having nightmares again, are you?"

At Harry's silence, Draco sighed sadly. "I'm sorry, Harry. Do you… want to tell me about it?"

Harry shook his head quickly. "No. No, I'll be okay." The last thing he wanted to do was tell Draco about the dementors.

"Well. If you don't want to talk, then _whatever _can we do to occupy ourselves?" Draco murmured, lifting his head slightly to run his lips along the side of Harry's jaw, while also pulling Harry's hips ever-so-slightly closer to his own.

Harry groaned in frustration. "I can't," he grumbled. "Hermione's expecting me in the common room, we're supposed to be working…"

"Blow it off…?" Draco offered briefly before latching his lips onto Harry's neck.

Reluctantly, Harry pulled back, placing his hands over Draco's on his hips. "I would if I could," he muttered, "But I'm supposed to be there now. I just ran into Ginny on the way there, and she wanted to talk…"

Draco's eyes narrowed slightly. "She's still hung up on you?"

"No! Well, sort of…" Harry admitted at Draco's incredulous look. "I'm just trying to be nice to her. After all, if she asks me why we can't be together, what am I supposed to say?"

Draco was quiet, lacing his fingers quietly with Harry's. "I just… don't like the way she looks at you."

Harry examined Draco's face for a moment before leaning in and pressing their lips together. It started simple, as Draco remained still, but after a moment, he released a tense breath and kissed Harry more firmly, tracing Harry's lower lip with his tongue before plundering Harry's mouth wholeheartedly until Harry's head was spinning and his breath was coming in short pants. Just when he was warming up to the idea of ditching the study session and staying right there with Draco, his boyfriend pulled back.

Draco's eyes were soft and hungry at the same time. "Go on. Before I keep you here by force."

"I'm not entirely against that," Harry whispered back, trying to lean in again, but Draco dodged, landed a peck on his cheek, and sat back in the chair.

"You're trying my restraint. Get going, or they'll wonder where you've gone off to."

With a rather loud grumble, Harry stole a last kiss and slid off of Draco's lap. "Fine. But you're making this up to me tonight."

"Five o'clock." Draco smirked. "Believe me, I'll do _everything_ within my power to make it up to you. But don't be late. You'll have to pay for every minute you keep me waiting..."

"Looking forward to it," Harry said breezily even as his face flamed. For some reason, he couldn't get used to Draco teasing him like that. And paying for every minute? What did that even _mean?_

Exiting the room, Harry almost ran smack into Professor Flitwick. The older man looked up at him curiously, and then peered into the darkened classroom beyond him. "Mr. Potter," he squeaked slowly. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"N-no, Professor," Harry stammered, skirting the shorter wizard and making a beeline for the entrance to the corridor. Behind him, he heard a startled, "Mr. Malfoy!"

Ears burning, Harry didn't look back.

* * *

><p>Severus Snape was in a foul mood. At Hogwarts, this was not a terribly uncommon occurrence, as he was constantly surrounded by small, irksome people, but this time his temperament was caused by something else entirely.<p>

Severus knew that he followed Dumbledore's orders first and foremost. And after the Devil's Snare had been neutralized (i.e., killed and burned) Headmaster had adamantly told all of the professors involved that no word of the incident could be spoken to a single soul, especially no one off campus. Normally, this would be fine. Normally, he would just nod, and go back to being annoyed at children every moment of every day.

But there was nothing normal about this.

Severus was almost certain that the Devil's Snare was modified in some way- normally, the tendrils crept slowly, trapping their prey using stealth. This plant was violent, whipping itself into a frenzy as it tried to avoid the fire and sunlight from the faculty's wands. It had nearly taken Trelawney's head off…

And it had something to do with Draco. Dumbledore never said a word, and Severus wasn't even sure if he was meant to know the truth. What he did know was that there was no way Draco's meetings with Dumbledore were entirely coincidental. His Godson's grades were fantastic, his behavior wasn't half-bad (except for that one day of missed class a few weeks back), and Severus had wracked his brains for weeks trying to figure out an alternative. All of them fell flat. Severus, as Lucius' eyes and ears at Hogwarts, was obligated to tell Lucius his suspicions.

But Dumbledore's word was final.

The Potions Professor was rudely awakened from his musings as a second-year dropped a vial of giant squid ink.

"Fifteen points from Hufflepuff," He barked at the terrified young girl. As the class resettled into their quiet chatter, Severus rubbed at his temple in irritation.

Being idle had run its course. It was time for action.

* * *

><p>Lucius stared into his fire. Saturday afternoons were always filled with his business associates seeking advice for the coming work week. He tried to enjoy the momentary lull, but his thoughts were murky with apprehension and uncertainty. Though several weeks had passed, he had made no move to contact Dumbledore and arrange a change of alliance. There had been little opportunity with Narcissa's eyes following him after his disappearing act, when he had been at 12 Grimmauld Place. And even if there had been an opportunity, Lucius was… afraid.<p>

Voldemort had been speaking more and more about finding a permanent headquarters for the Death Eaters. He was tiring of flitting from his followers homes. The week he'd spent at the Manor was quite possibly the longest and most frightening of Lucius' life; every move the Dark Lord had made had startled Lucius, had added to his doubts, his misgivings. The Dark Lord, thankfully, had been quite satisfied. Lucius had taken it then as a blessing, but as his master pondered a place for their ranks to safely live, Lucius felt increasingly uneasy, and was becoming certain that Voldemort had his sights set on Malfoy Manor.

If Lucius tried to back out of the Death Eaters now, he would be hunted down and slaughtered like a dog. Then they would go after Draco and Narcissa.

And even if he took the leap, there was no guarantee that Dumbledore would accept him. Granted, the old professor would appreciate having Lucius' knowledge, but Lucius' record was far from clean, and while Dumbledore had mercy on Severus, Lucius didn't think he was that kind to all Death Eaters who came crawling to him.

* * *

><p>Voldemort had called a meeting in the Black Forests of Wales, close enough to Apparate but far enough to escape detection.<p>

Lucius and Narcissa Apparated together, but as soon as they arrived, he dropped her hand. He'd barely touched her since his revelation at Sirius'.

They walked silently, listening to the forest wail in the midnight wind. Their path wound through the forest, narrow as a tightrope, and Narcissa grimaced as droplets of dew smeared against the hem of her dress below her cloak. "This had better be worth it," she grumbled. "Who on earth is so important that we have to assassinate them in the middle of the woods, rather than in the comfort of Dolohov's parlor?"

"Hush," Lucius beseeched her quietly, and they noiselessly picked their way through the brush to join the circlet of their fellows in a damp, mossy clearing. Above them, the occasional star peeked through the patchwork cloud cover.

"Is that the last?" Voldemort called, making Lucius and several others stiffen as the tall, pale figure entered from the opposite side. "Are we whole?"

"Indeed, my Lord," the cloaked figures rumbled.

"Wonderful." Voldemort made a signal to someone behind him, and the congregation shifted eagerly as Wormtail appeared, dragging behind him a bound figure with a black bag over his head. Muffled wheezes and grunts could be heard every time the prisoner was jostled, and he let out a stifled shriek as Wormtail threw him at Voldemort's feet.

"Now, then," Voldemort began to pace back and forth behind the trembling figure. "I'm sure you're all rather curious as to why I've brought you to this place in the dead of night. I assure you, it was necessary to ensure that we could properly dispose of this _vermin_," he spat, landing a sudden sharp kick to the victim's back- he shrank further with a gasp. "without being interrupted by the Order. You see, I'm actually doing them a _favor_, really. This pathetic man cannot walk the streets without being persecuted, cannot go with his fellows and try to raid us. We have lifted his burden from the shoulders of the Order, and yet they're still tearing Wizarding Britain apart, searching for him. Perhaps his charisma has helped him thus far. But I doubt we will be swayed by his charming face…"

At another gesture, Wormtail ripped the black burlap from the captive's head.

Lucius felt the earth drop out from beneath his feet.

Sirius.

_Sirius._

Narcissa's hand latched onto his arm, vice-like, before he'd even realized that he had stepped forward. He half-turned to her, wide-eyed as the Death Eaters around them jeered and crowed with laughter. Her eyes were stony and harsh. "You brought this on yourself," she seethed. "You should have just stayed away from him. His blood is on your hands now."

Lucius was reeling. Across the clearing, Sirius, his dear Sirius, was lying still, bruised and bleeding. His dark eyes stared hopelessly upwards.

"And now," Voldemort called softly, and silence descended immediately. "We will rid the Order of their burdensome, wretched Sirius Black."

Lucius stood frozen helpless, watching the wand lift and point itself, hearing the incantation screeched, splitting the night, cleaving his heart-

Lucius bolted upright, shaking like a newborn kitten. In his fireplace, Severus Snape's head was looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and confusion. "Lucius? Did you honestly fall asleep in that old chair?"

Lucius stared into the fire, his heart rate slowly returning to normal. "Just resting my eyes," he muttered, scrubbing at his eyes. His hands came away damp. Crying in his sleep wasn't very Malfoy-like, but after that dream…

"I have to go," He said abruptly, talking over whatever Severus had fire-called to say. His friend's eyebrows scrunched, and his eyes narrowed.

"This is very important, Lucius-"

"I'm sorry, Severus, but so is what I have to do. I'll be back tomorrow morning; you can call before your morning classes." Already Lucius was reaching for his travelling cloak, patting his wrist to make sure his want was still up his sleeve.

Snape looked downright frustrated. "But it has to do with-"

Lucius was already leaving the office, wiping the last of the moisture from the corners of his eyes. "Tomorrow, Severus!"

Striding down the main hall, Lucius counted silently to himself. He had exactly four hours before Narcissa returned home from the afternoon gathering that Gloria Nott was hosting, four hours to get this done.

Gritting his teeth, Lucius opened the front door, stepped onto the stoop, and Apparated.

* * *

><p>Staring into the empty office, Severus swore. "It has to do with Draco, you flighty bastard."<p>

* * *

><p>Harry was beginning to fear that he would never make it to the Room of Requirement. Oh, no- he would die of boredom first.<p>

"…And after the Goblin Revolts of 1482 caused a rift between the muggles and the wizards, the Wizarding Council signed a pact with the Veelas and Vampires, and promised to support one another. Of course, Wizards blatantly disregarded the treaty, and ended up killing off most of the Vampires… Are you two even listening to me?"

Ron gave a slight snort as Harry jabbed him in the shoulder with a quill. Up until that moment, he had been drooping onto his collar, slumped into his chair, dead to the world.

"Oh, _honestly,_ Ron!" Hermione chastised. "I'm trying to help you! If you only paid attention in class, and you didn't try to use your textbooks as pillows-"

Harry yawned rather spectacularly, and tried to peek at the clock mounted on the opposite wall. His heart thumped unsteadily. It was a quarter to five. "Well, Hermione, you only have fifteen more minutes to instill in us the wonders of our teachers' lessons…"

"What!" Hermione whirled around, gaping at the clock. "That can't be right! We'll have to keep working until we've gone through all of the classes!"

"Oh, come off it!" Ron growled. "We agreed to study until five, and then we get to run away from you and hide."

Hermione went slightly red. "Well," she snapped. "I apologize for trying to _help_ you-"

"Hermione, he didn't mean it. We're just a little tired. Go on?" Harry intervened carefully, relived when Hermione shot him a surprised but grateful smile.

"Alright, where was I? Oh, the Vampires…"

Harry settled into his chair, staring at the clock. He had a feeling Ron was doing the same.

His mind drifted, quickly wandering a familiar path: Draco. He had insisted on the Room of Requirement for their first date, only smiling deviously whenever Harry asked why. Harry had thought back to the bath, when they had first devised the idea. Draco had talked about several hobbies… would Harry get to see them all firsthand?

But, Harry thought wryly, remembering their parting statements in the Charms room, the night would almost certainly end well.

Harry jumped as Ron exploded out of his seat with a shout. Sure enough, the clock's hands were gesturing lazily to five o'clock. Hermione's face looked sour for a moment, but as she watched Ron dance his way around the common room, drawing the stares of several third-years, her expression softened, and a small smile crept across her face.

"I'll- er- see you guys later?" Harry offered, eyeing the clock and inching to the door as he remembered Draco's words for the umpteenth time that day. Already it was one minute past the hour.

"Oh, right, your meeting with Dumbledore," Hermione nodded towards the door. "Go on. You don't want to be late."

"Thanks… Have fun tonight," He called over his shoulder as he climbed through the portrait hole. The second it closed behind him, he dashed off in the direction of the seventh floor corridor where Draco waited. He took the stairs two at a time, sprinting through the corridors, grateful for the cold drafts that kept the rest of the castle in their dorms and out of his path.

Too many minutes later, he ended up in front of the empty patch of wall where the Room of Requirement waited. Quickly, he focused his mind on what Draco had described to him, adding a _where Draco is, what Draco asked for_, for a good measure.

The door took forever to appear. It was almost like it knew Draco was sitting inside with a stopwatch and an evil grin. _What am I thinking? Of _course _it knows._

The handle popped out of the door with a slight click, and Harry immediately grabbed it, and jerked it open. A blast of cold air greeted him, and all thoughts of any punishment scattered like desert dust in the wind.

The only thing about the room that he had correctly anticipated was Draco, sitting in a luxurious chair similar to the one he had transfigured in the Charms room with a small, round watch. The rest of the room was astounding.

The ceilings soared, reaching at least thirty-five feet in some places, with chandeliers like bushes of spidery silver light placed here and there. Off to one side was the more practical side, with a bed and bath. Of course, "practical" was only relative to the rest of the room. The bath was enormous, enough for a small family of elephants to frolic in, and the bed was the size of a squashed SUV, piled high with pillows and duvets. The area was one big room, and that was only a fraction of it. On one side was an art studio, complete with an easel and a large, white wall and floor for a still life. A little ways from that was a medium space partitioned with intricately carved dividers and decorated in dark, soft tones. In the middle of it was a small table, already set with candles, napkins, and silverware.

The rest of the large expanse was entirely made of ice.

"You mentioned that you wanted to skate," Draco said quietly, examining Harry's face, looking for a reaction. "But I heard today that a few Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws are staying behind. I knew we couldn't be seen, and skating at night would almost certainly be too dangerous…. And don't worry, I already practiced making it disappear, so we won't freeze tonight. So…" He paused, meeting Harry's awed gaze. "do you like it?"

Harry gaped wordlessly for another moment before snapping out of his daze. "My God, Draco, it's amazing! It's perfect!"

Relief washed over Draco's face, and he immediately stood and strode forward to slip his arms around Harry's waist. "You mean it?"

"Absolutely!" Harry breathed, staring into Draco's delighted eyes.

"That's good," Draco responded quietly, excitement brimming in his voice. Without another word, he leaned down and closed the distance with a kiss. After a moment, Harry stood on his toes slightly, trying to get closer, and wrapped his arms around Draco's neck. The pair swayed slightly for a moment, pressing close and deepening the kiss for long, trickling moments before Harry managed to find the willpower to pull away. "Let's not get too carried away too soon," He murmured, pressing his forehead against Draco's and sighing quietly in contentment.

Draco smiled and made a sound of agreement. "Yes, we have lots to do."

Harry pulled back far enough so that he could pointedly look around the room again. "Yes," he laughed a little, his breath coming in little white puffs. "I can see that."

"Care for a tour?" Draco offered with a smile, making a sweeping gesture towards the more elaborate half of the room.

"Certainly," Harry said, picking up the same mock-formality that Draco had momentarily donned. They grinned at one another, and Draco led Harry towards the art studio, skirting the edge of the glassy, smooth surface.

"I told you I draw," Draco spoke with that same tinge of excitement, "And I figured tonight would be nice for a demonstration. Daylight is always better, but I figure we'll have plenty of time for that over the break. Candlelight is good, too, after all," Draco sent Harry a quick look. "And just so you know, I haven't forgotten about your tardiness. I'm just biding my time."

Harry flushed deeply at the silky quality of Draco's voice. Whenever it dipped into that timbre, it promised of things both terrible and wonderful that were to come. But Draco continued as if nothing had happened. "I'll just use charcoal or pencil, for now." Harry found himself being steered towards the black wood partitions. "I already spoke with Dobby, and he'll be here to bring dinner around seven. I considered cooking, but…" Draco ran a hand through his hair sheepishly. "I didn't think you'd be interested in pasta and burned toast…"

Harry snorted. "I doubt you're _that_ bad. Don't worry; next time I'll cook for us. Since I actually know how."

"I'll hold you to that."

Harry glanced at Draco's smile. "What's the schedule? I assume you've planned everything out perfectly."

Draco went a little pink. "I'm not that obsessive," he grumbled, and completely negated the statement by then saying, "Like I said, dinner's at seven, so we have two hours now. We can skate, or I can sketch you, or we could have a raucous pillow fight…?" Harry snorted again. "Well, what I'd thought was that we skate now and I'll sketch you later, so w don't get cold during dinner, but if that's not what you want then-"

"That sounds excellent."

Draco turned quickly, to make sure Harry meant it, and then beamed. "Then let's do this."

Several minutes later, Harry found himself staring at a mound of pillows that Draco had summoned from the bed. They had satin pillowcases that shimmered slightly in the light from the dozen or so candles that Draco had set out carefully.

"Make yourself comfortable," Draco suggested. He was seated on a large cushion that he had conjured, with a large sketchbook in his lap. "It won't take the whole two hours, but if you want it to look good, I do have to spend a rather large piece of time on it, so you should pick a position that doesn't make you sore at all."

"…been here five minutes and you're already making me pick a position," Harry growled playfully. Draco laughed out loud.

"I think I've corrupted you, Harry," Draco told him, still chuckling. Harry thought about easing himself into the mountain of pillows, and decided against it, instead taking a running start and diving into the pile.

His glasses were crooked, biting into his nose, but with the pillows surrounding him on all sides and Draco's laughter ringing in his ears, he felt ridiculously happy. He wiggled around until he could see Draco, and turned on his back to lounge.

"Comfortable?" Draco asked, amused. At Harry's confirmation, he selected a piece of charcoal from a box and pressed it to the paper. "Let's begin. You can talk to me as long as I'm not doing your face, you know."

"Oh. What do you want to talk about?"

As it turned out, they talked about what seemed like everything. Draco told Harry about his fascination with music of all sorts, even some Muggle bands, but his complete inability to dance or sing. ("Dad tried to teach me to waltz once," he said, shaking his head and laughing, "but he gave up because I bruised his toes so badly!"). Conversely, he loved to draw, but had very little interest in other art that he had no personal investment in.

Harry went on for a bit about the Dursleys, but rather than dwelling on the darker bits, he told Draco about the accidental magic he had performed. Draco nearly laughed until he cried when Harry animatedly recounted the story of the vanishing glass in the zoo, and he seemed entranced by Harry's adventure of saving Buckbeak and Sirius. The moments slipped by easily, marked only by the faint whisper of Draco's charcoal.

"And- finished!" Draco said suddenly, with a last stroke of the charcoal. "Now I can finally do what I've been waiting for…"

Without any further warning, Draco leapt into the pillows.

Harry gave a rather unmanly squeak as he suddenly found himself staring into Draco's sparking grey eyes. He crawled closer in a prowling move so animalistic that Harry couldn't help the shiver that went down his spine.

"I hope you hadn't forgotten about your punishment," Draco whispered, his voice dripping with danger. Harry froze as Draco leaned in close to his throat. His breath was warm on Harry's skin, and Harry trembled, jumping slightly when Draco's lips closed on the base of his neck.

Harry's breathing hitched as Draco licked a stripe across his exposed collarbone. The blonde nipped and sucked at the skin until Harry's entire body felt flushed, occasionally laving his tongue against the spot until Harry shuddered.

At last, Draco pulled away. Harry stared up at his wicked face, his lips slightly reddened as they split into _that_ smile.

"One down," he purred, undoing the first button on Harry's shirt and leaning forward again, "Six to go…" At Harry's surprised noise, Draco paused, looking up at him languidly. "Didn't you realize, Harry? You were seven minutes late."

Harry could do nothing but squirm as Draco worked his way down his torso. One love bite was craftily placed beneath his right nipple, another at the base of the left side of his ribcage.

Just as Draco was lowering his head for a fourth, there was a sharp _Crack!_

Harry jumped as Dobby appeared a few feet away, looking unsteady beneath the large trays of food and drink. "Dobby's apologies, sirs," he squeaked, "But the food was ready ahead of schedule. Do sirs wish for Dobby to wait?"

"No," Harry coughed, "No, now's fine, Dobby."

"Wonderful!" Dobby chirped. He vanished around the corner of the partition, still teetering slightly. Draco shifted, laying a quick kiss to Harry's jaw before pulling back and standing. "Don't think this gets you out of your punishment," Draco murmured.

Harry swallowed, accepting Draco's offered hand. He stretched slightly as he stood; his muscles were a tad stiff from being still for so long.

The two of them rounded the partition as Dobby set out the last of the plates. There were two plates of what looked like ravioli, buttered bread, and a small salad off to one side. Two goblets of pumpkin juice sat by each plate. "Unless Masters Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy need more from Dobby, Dobby needs to be in the kitchen, helping with dinner."

"We'll be fine, Dobby," Draco said. "Thank you for your help."

With a low, enthusiastic bow, Dobby vanished.

"Dinner tonight," Draco began, pulling Harry's chair out for him, "Is a mushroom-cheese-ravioli in a marinara sauce, with French buttered bread and a salad with romaine lettuce, croutons and Caesar salad dressing." Draco seemed oddly pleased as he sat across from Harry. He took out his want and lit the tall, white candles that sat between them. "I remembered that you mentioned you liked Italian food, so I thought it would be nice."

"It is," Harry agreed, putting his napkin in his lap and picking up his fork. Draco watched anxiously as he speared a ravioli and lifted it to his lips. The marinara sauce was perfectly spiced, mixing with the fresh parmesan and the delicate bits of mushroom. He made a noise of strong approval as he chewed, and Draco visibly relaxed. "It's excellent," Harry said after he swallowed, and Draco beamed.

The two of them dug in. As with the sketching, they exchanged stories. Harry howled with laughter when Draco described the time when he accidentally vanished his mother's apparating license, and the two of them had been taken down to the M.O.M. offices by a ministry witch patrolling Hogsmeade. Draco listened soberly to Harry talk about second year, when everyone had suspected Harry of being the Heir of Slytherin. Then they talked some about their father figures.

"I never thought that dad saw anyone before mother," Draco confessed, playing with what was left of his pasta. "The way she told it, they were high school sweethearts. I mean, she was two years older in school, but still."

"Sirius never said a word," Harry added, shaking his head as he reached for his pumpkin juice. "I don't know why he would've, but the way he reacted when I asked him… It was obvious that he knew exactly what I was talking about."

"I wonder how it started," Draco mused. "Sirius was nowhere near dad in school, right? There's at least a five year difference. So what happened?"

"We won't know unless we ask," Harry sent Draco an amused look. "It's your turn to ask your dad."

Draco spat out the mouthful of pumpkin juice he'd been about to swallow. "Bloody hell, no!" He coughed. "Do you have any idea what he would do? If his reaction is as serious as Sirius' was, he could have a heart attack or something! And then, once he comes back from the dead, he'll try and get me to tell him how I found out."

"Fine, you don't have to. But I'm not saying anything to Sirius again unless I'm forced to. We haven't had a chance to talk since… the _incident_, so I'm not sure if he's angry at me, or what."

Draco shook his head. "From what you've told me about him, I doubt he'd let something like that get in the way of your relationship. He's probably just busy."

Harry thought for a moment about the big, empty house where Sirius spent his days, and felt a little pang in his heart. Somehow, he doubted that was the reason, but he didn't say so.

"I wonder how it ended," he said abruptly a moment later.

Draco's brows furrowed. "We don't even know _when _it ended. And we've already established that we can't go up to them and ask."

Their eyes met, and the idea blossomed between them simultaneously. "But," Draco went on slowly. "We can ask-"

"Dobby!" Harry called, making Draco jump slightly in his chair.

A moment later, the elf popped into existence a few feet from the table. He blinked happily at the pair. "Master Harry needed Dobby?"

"We… er… we had some questions about Sirius Black and Lucius Malfoy." Draco said carefully.

Dobby cocked his head to one side expectantly.

Harry cleared his throat. "When did they- I mean, when did Sirius stop… visiting?"

Dobby tapped his chin with a long finger. "Dobby is not remembering exactly… The last of Master Black's visits was around the time when Dobby needed to redecorate the bedroom."

Harry glanced over at Draco in confusion, and Draco asked quickly, "Why did you need to redecorate? Was moth- Narcissa Black coming?"

Dobby shook his head so that his ears flopped. "No, Mistress arrived a few months later. Dobby needed to redecorate because Master Malfoy ruined everything."

"Could you explain? Ruined how?" Harry asked.

Dobby fidgeted. "Master seemed very upset. Dobby saw through the crack in the door, yes, he did, Dobby saw Master destroy it all. The bed, the desk, the chairs, even the carpet, all blasted apart-"

"What?" Draco looked astonished. "That couldn't have been dad. No way he'd lose control like that."

Dobby looked at the floor. "Master seemed very sad. Elves and wizards alike do things most unlike ourselves when we are sad."

Harry stared at Dobby. Then he slowly looked up to meet Draco's eyes. He saw a similar realization in the dove-grey. "You don't think it was because…?" Draco breathed.

"It fits," Harry said slowly. "It fits…"

Dobby's timid voice broke in. "Dobby is needed in the kitchen, sirs, if you aren't needing more assistance…?"

"Yes, yes, thank you, Dobby," Draco said absently, staring blankly at his plate. "You may go."

Dobby quickly gathered their finished plates and silverware and disapparated with a sharp crack.

Harry and Draco stared at one another silently in the wake of his departure.

* * *

><p>"Shit!" Harry yelped, clutching Draco's arm in a death grip as his feet threatened to slip out from under him. Draco held him up patiently, a small smile on his face. "How are you so damn steady?" Harry growled.<p>

"It comes naturally to Malfoys," Draco said haughtily, then winced as Harry nearly went down again. "Unless you want to leave me crippled, you may want to let me keep both my arms…"

"I don't know how to skate!" Harry exclaimed.

"You have to _glide_, Harry, _gently._ Go slowly at first, like this," Draco began to slide his feet forward, one at a time, "and push," He sent them forward smoothly. "Come on, baby steps. I didn't learn in ten minutes, either."

They had decided to leave the topic of their father figures alone for the time being, instead lacing on their skates and taking to the rink. Approximately two seconds into their adventure, Harry had started swearing loudly as he learned that the ice really _was _as slippery as it looked.

Now Draco was doing his best to teach him how to skate.

"Push and glide, push and glide, that's it- no, don't stop! You need momentum!"

"How the hell do you make it look so bloody easy!"

"I told you, years of practice. Now, come on. Right, left, right, left…"

And so it went on and on until some of the feeling finally returned to Draco's fingers. Harry's fingers were unclenching slightly as he settled into a rhythm, and Draco flexed his hand in relief. "See? You've got it. You never even fell down," Draco kissed the side of Harry's head, guiding them in a wide arc around the rink.

"That's only because you held me upright. And let me strangle your arm."

Draco smiled to himself. "It was worth it. See?" Careful not to jar Harry, he gently took Harry's hand off of his arm and placed it in his own.

Harry glanced over at Draco, a warmth rising in his chest. They were ice skating, hand in hand. It was just so… couple-y. A little cliché. But it felt _right_. Like this was where he was meant to be in the world, right there, holding hands with Draco.

Then he tripped.

Harry went sprawling, dragging a helpless Draco along for the ride. They skidded for a slightly painful, icy moment before sliding slowly to a stop. Harry's eyes were wide and surprised as he looked over at Draco, who snickered at the expression on his face. "You didn't think you were immune to falling down once you got the hang of it, did you?"

"Hush," Harry grumbled, trying to get to his feet. Immediately, Draco was upright and offering him a hand. "Easy, there. Getting up is a pain in the arse."

"No kidding," Harry snorted, accepting the offering.

"We'll have other chances to practice," Draco brushed some ice from his sleeves, "But do you want to maybe call it a night?"

Harry was suddenly very aware of how cold and wet he was, and he looked down, noticing large wet patches on his front from where he'd skidded on the ice. "Yeah. Let's warm up… Does can we conjure a fire place?"

"I've just about mastered the way the room works. Come on- if you don't want to freeze in your sleep, we should get rid of this rink. And we can't do that if we're standing on it."

Together, they skated awkwardly to the edge of the rink near the bed and gingerly stepped off. Harry started taking his skates off of his numb feet, watching Draco, who finished more quickly than he had. His boyfriend closed his eyes, and as Harry watched, the room shifted. The wall that had the art studio and dining area suddenly seemed to speed towards where Harry sat before molding into a simple peach-toned wall with a fireplace large enough to roast a cow . Before Harry's eyes, the entire space that had been filled by the ice was overlapped by the rushing wall. Wood appeared in the fireplace and flames erupted from them with a roar.

Draco opened his eyes, his face relaxing into a satisfied smile. "Let's get closer to the fire to warm up," he suggested, picking up a few of the pillows that littered the floor and pulling the edge of the topmost duvet, gesturing for Harry to do the same.

Together, they constructed a nest of a dozen or so pillows and three heavy, soft blankets. Harry plopped down in the middle of it and tugged at Draco's hand until the Slytherin did the same. Harry started to get cozy, but Draco stopped him with a smile. "Don't you want to get out of those wet clothes?" He asked craftily.

"Certainly," Harry responded, and then gasped as Draco pushed him down in the downy nest. His chilly fingers warmed slowly in the heat from the fire as he undid the buttons of Harry's topmost robes, and then his school shirt. Draco momentarily pulled Harry up to pull off the layers and toss them away. Harry was left in his trousers.

"Mmm," Draco hummed contentedly, looking at the purple marks marring the surface of Harry's skin. "It's good to know you're mine."

Harry flushed slightly, watching Draco's face in the light from the fire. It had that familiar hunger, but also a contentment. And then a flash of naughtiness as Draco's hand found the button of Harry's trousers.

In a flash, Draco had undone the button and zipper, and the pants and underwear were flying through the air to land in an obscure corner of the room. It didn't matter. What _did _matter was that Draco was nowhere near as naked as he should be.

So, naturally Harry would need to help him out… right?

Sitting up, Harry pushed Draco's coat from his shoulders and then moved on to Draco's tie, and then the buttons on his shirt. But when he reached for the button of Draco's pants, the blonde batted his hand away and stood, undoing them himself and kicking them away. "On your stomach," Draco ordered in a sultry, insistent voice. Harry was more than happy to oblige, his half-hard erection pressing into the pillows. He felt Draco's eyes roving over him, and then Draco's mouth descended on Harry's shoulder blade. _The punishment_, Harry remembered, squeezing his eyes shut as each lick and bite went straight to his cock.

The fourth bite went on his shoulder blade.

The fifth on the skin at the small of Harry's back.

The sixth on the oh-so-sensitive skin under Harry's left arsecheek.

Bracing himself for the second, Harry gasped as Draco flipped him over and parted his legs roughly. With an evil grin, Draco honed in on Harry's inner thigh, drawing a heady moan at the first bite. The next minute had Harry squirming against Draco's hold and letting out gasps every time Draco bit down. His erection was fully hard, twitching slightly in time with Harry's moans.

At last, Draco pulled away, licking his lips. "Mmm…. Were you wanting something, Harry?"

Harry groaned. It was going to be one of those nights where Draco made him spell out everything he wanted. "Draco, please, just-"

"…hmm? Just what?"

Harry writhed slightly on the satin pillows. "Please touch me," He gasped.

Draco smirked. "Oh, I'll do better than that. I owe you from this morning, remember?"

Before Harry could process it, Draco swooped in and took Harry's cock into his mouth, pressing his hands to Harry's hips to negate the bucking he knew was coming. Above him, Harry wailed, trying to adjust to the warm, wet heat surrounding his cock and the laving of Draco's tongue against the underside. After being subjected to the torture of Draco's mouth elsewhere for so long, Harry knew he wouldn't last. Whines and endless words tumbled from his lips, and as Draco sucked gently on the tip, he felt the familiar tightening of his testicles. "D-Draco, I'm-"

He cried out as he came, fisting his hands in Draco's pristine hair as he trembled. Draco didn't let a drop spill

Once he'd ridden the waved of pleasure, Harry went limp in the cocoon of satin, breathing heavily. Below him, Draco released his cock with a lewd _pop_ and a satisfied smile.

"Don't you dare fall asleep, Harry. It's our anniversary. We're not done yet. _Accio Lube!_"

Dimly, Harry heard a cap being unscrewed, but he didn't think too much of it until a finger slid inside his entrance.

Harry gasped, his eyes fluttering open as he clenched down on the finger. Draco paused for a moment, watching Harry's face as he wriggled the finger back and forth. Harry groaned, feeling the stirring in his groin for the second time that night.

Draco slipped in another finger, and another too soon after. Before Harry could voice any discomfort, Draco's miracle fingers managed to locate that magic spot inside him, and Harry found himself pressing back against the intrusion. "Come _on_," he demanded.

"Fine, fine. But don't expect me to do all the work."

Harry gasped as Draco tugged him upright, and guided him on his knees so that he hovered above Draco's erection. He had just enough time to see how beautiful Draco looked in the firelight, with his hair mussed and his cheeks flushed and his eyes devouring every inch of Harry's body. Then he let out a long groan as Draco guided him onto his cock and lowered Harry until his butt brushed Draco's thighs. Both of them took a moment to catch their breath, and Harry braced his hands on Draco's shoulders to brace himself.

He lifted himself slowly, using his handholds and his legs, and he gritted his teeth at the feeling of Draco's cock moving inside him, slowly. He reached a certain height and let go, slamming back down with another loud cry. Draco's hands tightened on his hips, helping him find a rhythm. They looked into each other's eyes, and Draco leaned forward, kissing his way along Harry's jaw to his lips and swallowing Harry's whine as Draco's cock massaged his prostate. Angling his hips, Draco started to regulate the slow thrusts, aiming for Harry's sweet spot every time. From the sounds Harry made, he was succeeding.

Then Harry said the magic word.

"_Faster._"

And what could Draco do but oblige?

Pushing Harry down on his back, Draco parted the Gryffindor's legs wide and plunged in to the hilt. Harry's head rocked back, and he let out barks of pleasure with every thrust. Draco managed to hit his prostate every time, and Harry felt his second orgasm of the night approaching rapidly. He surged upwards, kissing Draco with lips and teeth and tongue, and with a final thrust, they came together, pressing close and gasping as one. Shivers of pleasure wracked Harry's body, and Draco laid him down gently in the pillows, draping his own body over him.

"Happy anniversary," Draco murmured, kissing the skin below Harry's ear before laying his head on Harry's shoulder.

Harry smiled drowsily to himself.

Yes, it was.

* * *

><p>Behind his enormous desk, Dumbledore re-inked his quill and began scrawling the last line of a letter to an old colleague. He placed the final period and paused, listening to the not-quite-silence of the castle at midnight. He smiled to himself, and stood a half-moment before there was a firm knock on the door to his office.<p>

Opening the door, he examined what it had revealed and beamed. Widening it, he beckoned with a few fingers. "I was wondering when you were going to visit me."

* * *

><p><strong>I hope you all enjoyed it! It's now time for bed. You've all seen the power of reviews, so toss me a few words! :)<strong>

**Sincerely,**

**Jester.**

**P.S.: This is twice as long as longest thing I've ever posted. XD**


	2. The One With The Morning After

**Hello, lovelies!**

**Sorry for the wait- I've been rather busy, and quite sick, and I didn't want to give you guys a wimpy, short chapter. So here it is, chapter two in all its glory! :)**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Yet. There's still hope... ;)**

**Warning: not much for this chapter, but be warned, newcomers- here there be slash.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Harry was feeling wonderfully warm and relaxed. The air was warm and smoky, there was a familiar form draped over his body, and every one of his muscles ached pleasantly. It had been a while since he and Draco had been able to sneak away and have sex, but the ache wasn't unbearable. On the contrary, the more Harry thought about how he had <em>become<em> sore, the more and more appealing a repeat performance. Of course, that would make him _more_ sore, and he wouldn't mind that too much, but he might be limping for a while, and Hermione was already suspicious enough-

Harry gasped, and tried to sit up suddenly. Draco made a surprised noise and rolled off of him, and Harry leapt to his feet and began to flit around the room, grabbing any clothes from the floor that looked like his.

Draco stared, pushing his mussed platinum strands out of his eyes. "What do you think you're doing? Come back here, it's not even morning yet!"

"No, I can't! I told Ron and Hermione that I had a meeting with Dumbledore, and if I'm not there this morning, they'll know that I lied!" Harry explained in a panic, trying to tug on his pants before he realized they were backwards.

"Or they'll think you told the truth, and they'll lose a bit of respect for Dumbledore…" Draco shrugged, looking a bit disgruntled at losing a bed partner.

Harry, preoccupied with buttoning his shirt, took a moment to get it. "Oh, that's gross," Harry mumbled, wrinkling his nose.

Draco promptly ignored this, and instead stretched to reach his trousers, showing off a wide expanse of taut muscles beneath his skin. Harry's mouth went a little dry.

Fumbling with the pocket, Draco pulled out an old, well-polished pocket watch. With a little frown, he reached out and caught Harry's wrist as he threaded the last button through the hole. "It's not even four, Harry. Get back here."

"But I can't," Harry protested weakly, still allowing himself to be pulled back into the pillow fort. "Oh, fine. But just for a few minutes."

"Whatever keeps you here," Draco murmured, pressing a kiss to Harry's temple. "You know, you'd be more comfortable with fewer clothes…" At Harry's stern look, Draco shrugged, a slightly sleepy smile gracing his features. "It was worth a try."

"I'm not that easy," Harry grumbled, only to give a small yelp as Draco rasped his fingers over the hickey at the base of Harry's neck. "Stop that, I'm not staying."

"Well. Then I guess you won't see the picture." Draco looked up innocently.

Harry paused. "What pic- oh! Your sketch!"

Draco nodded loftily, still gazing up at nothing in particular, and pursed his lips slightly. "Yes, the sketch. It turned out pretty nicely, too… Such a shame you're in too much of a hurry rushing off to see it…"

Harry narrowed his eyes. "What's it going to take?"

Immediately, the ceiling became far less interesting. "Another hour."

"Half."

"Three-quarters."

"Done."

With a smirk, Draco twisted around and reached beneath one of the many excess pillows that littered the floor nearby and pulled the sketchbook from beneath it with a flourish. Harry couldn't believe that he hadn't noticed it, despite the poor lighting. It was almost bigger than the cushion. Without further prompting, Draco flipped open the book, passed several darkly-shaded pages, and finally turned the ream of heavy paper to face Harry.

He gasped.

I was him, but at the same time, it… _wasn't_. This Harry was all big, bright eyes that gleamed, and hair that stuck up at all angles but still managed to look alright, and features that seemed to be sharp and candlelight-softened all at once. Every wrinkle in his clothing was precise and smudged, little tiger-stripe shadows running along his arms and legs and torso, where he wasn't buried by pillows. The expression on his face was amusement, laughter, but a warmth resonated in his eyes.

"Well?" Draco asked, biting his lip at Harry's expression.

Harry struggled for words. "It's not… _me_. I mean, that's not…"

"It's how _I _see you…" Draco told him. His eyes were level and serious.

Harry choked on a watery laugh, still staring at the picture. "You're not allowed to say things like that. I'm not like this."

Draco sharply guided Harry's gaze in his direction. "Stop that! You're amazing, and you don't even know it. If that means I have to prove it to you, then I will, even if it takes years. But I won't let you be harsh on yourself."

Harry scoffed, shaking his head and finally looking away from the picture. It blazed brightly in his memory. "Don't start a quest you can't finish, Draco. I'm only what other people have made me. Nothing more or less…" Seeing the look on Draco's face, Harry sighed. "…and not a word I say will convince you." Draco nodded. "God, you should've been a Gryffindor."

It was almost funny how scandalized Draco looked.

* * *

><p>Sneaking into the Gryffindor dorm was a tad more complex than Harry had anticipated, which is actually saying quite a bit. Harry had known the Fat Lady would be irked ("Bloody four in the morning, I've half a mind to report you to the Headmaster, yes I do!"), he had guessed that the stairs would shriek like the damned with every step he took, and he had known that he would need to go straight to bed so that anyone who woke at the sound of his footsteps wouldn't suspect him.<p>

But all of these things happened after he had made it to the common room itself. Before he'd arrived, he had not only had to hide from Filch and Mars. Norris, but also two Ravenclaws out for a stroll, a scary-looking screech owl that had an intelligent gleam in its eye, and a shadow that looked ominously like Severus Snape. As Harry had forgotten the invisibility cloak, these obstacles were a tad more troubling than usual. But none of them came close to the heart attack he had once he'd made it into the boy's dormitory.

"…Harry?"

He couldn't help leaping with surprise, whirling around to face the bed of the speaker. "Neville! You scared the living daylights out of me!"

"You're not much better, skulking about in the dark! Where've you been?"

Harry's jaw locked into place. Merlin, he hadn't seen this coming. Where had he been? Where? "I must've fallen asleep in the library. I woke up there a while ago."

Neville's voice was slightly insulted. "I'm not a moron, Harry. I can tell when I'm being lied to." A pause. "Even in the dark."

Someone else in the dorm snored loudly, shocking Harry out of his thoughts. "Look, not right now, okay? I promise to tell you-" Some lie I'll get Draco's help with, "-the truth in the morning. Alright? Just don't tell anyone about this."

There was a long silence. Seamus snorted and rolled in his dreams. "Fine, Harry. But I'm not about to let this go. This isn't the first time I've seen you coming in late, you know…"

With that, Neville turned on his side and fell silent. Harry stood still in place for a while, heart hammering, before turning and feeling his way to his four-poster in the dark.

His last thoughts before dropping off to sleep circled Neville, and just how much he'd seen.

* * *

><p>"Another ruddy week of classes!" Ron groaned. Harry scrubbed his forehead with the back of his hand, yawning rather spectacularly as he checked the clock. It was noon on a Sunday, but he felt like it was far too early to be conscious.<p>

"Yeah, Ron. Classes… At least they're not until tomorrow, right?" Harry's own lament was more along the lines of, _another ruddy week without Draco. Another ruddy week of pretending to hate Draco. Another ruddy week of hiding his relationship with Draco… which had suddenly become more complicated._

Ron glanced in Harry's direction, making his way to the stairs leading to the common room. "I know you need to be working some more with Dumbledore and all that, mate, but are you really sure you need to stay here for the holiday?"

Oh. That. "Yeah, Ron, I am. I mean, I do need to stay. It's just best, you know? Plus, I'll see everyone on Christmas at the Burrow, or Snuffle's place. So it won't be too long."

Ron still looked dubious. "Are you sure you don't want me and 'Mione to stay?"

"That's really okay, Ron," Harry forced himself to sound calm. "You should go and see your brothers. I know you must miss them, and your parents."

His friend snorted and rolled his eyes in disbelief, but to Harry's relief, he dropped the subject as they entered the common room. Hermione was sitting by the fire with a crusty leather book open in her lap. Even reading it upside-down, Harry could tell it wasn't in English. She glanced up as they approached. "There you are! I've been waiting ages, it's nearly time for lunch! What on earth have the two of you been doing?"

"Sleeping," Ron answered just as Harry yawned heartily. Hermione's eyes narrowed in suspicion, but she didn't say anything. "So, it's lunchtime? Excellent, I'm famished…"

Hermione switched gears faster than Uncle Vernon running from a Hogwarts acceptance letter. "Honestly, Ron, how can you be hungry? You haven't done anything all weekend except study and sleep and eat!"

"I can't help it! It's not like I mean to be hungry or anything!"

"For goodness' sake," She sighed, standing and lifting her book gently, and the trio made their way to the Great Hall, bickering all the way. Well, Hermione and Ron bickered. Harry mostly yawned.

"Really, Ron, you eat so much that I'm surprised you're not round! If Harry or I ate the quantity you do every day, before long you'd be able to roll us to our classes! I don't know what you do with all of it!"

"It's just food, Hermione, I don't know why you're so- oomph!"

Ron staggered, nearly pitching headfirst into the partially open doors to the Great Hall. Goyle turned slowly and gave a menacing sneer before continuing into the Hall, Crabbe at his heels. Ron's face filled with a growing anger. "What a complete pair of arses. Where's their master? Malfoy doesn't go anywhere without his cronies…. There!"

Harry's head snapped around to fast it hurt, following Ron's tight gesture, and he stared across the hallway at Draco. He was on a landing, up a flight of stairs, looking a bit drowsy and entirely too well-rested for Harry's liking. It wasn't fair, how good Draco could look after a sleepless night of shagging.

"Oi, Malfoy!" Ron shouted, startling Harry. His friend's face was slightly red, especially around his ears, and Harry's heart sank. Ron was well and truly pissed off for no good reason. "Try to control your gits, why don't you?"

Draco raised an eyebrow, frowning lightly. "I did nothing wrong, Weasel. Your argument is with Goyle… but it might as well be with a brick wall. Yelling or swinging your fists won't get you anywhere." He descended lazily, and Harry saw Ron's hand twitch toward the pocket of his robes, where his wand waited.

"Shut it, Malfoy!" Ron snapped. Beside him, Hermione was glancing between him and Draco anxiously. She was fingering the handle of her own wand.

Still walking closer, Draco cocked his head to one side. "I believe you started this. I'm not about to curse you, nor did I do anything to prompt this, so if you'll be so kind as to let me through…?" Harry stared. This was one of the first altercations that had occurred between Draco and the three of them in weeks, and Draco was barely fighting back. If anything, he didn't seem to _want_ to fight at all. He hadn't even acknowledged Harry or Hermione, which was probably for the best- the last thing Harry wanted was to become tongue-tied by simply making eye contact with Draco. _That _would be difficult to explain to Ron and Hermione.

Ron spluttered incoherently for a moment, and it was all the time Draco needed to slip between Harry and Ron into the Great Hall. Harry felt his face warm slightly as Draco brushed by him.

As they found their seats, Ron was growling to himself about Malfoy being an arse, and Hermione was chastising him for looking for a fight. But there was something off about her face, and after a beat of silence between the trio, she spoke softly. "The dungeons are downstairs…"

"Huh?" Ron spewed bread crumbs.

Hermione wrinkled her nose, but even this didn't snap her out of her thoughtful daze. "The dungeons are _downstairs_. So why was Malfoy coming _down_ to breakfast instead of _up_?"

Harry was silent as Ron waved away Hermione's questions, and he bit his tongue slightly, his hand in his pocket. Inside, he felt something small and smooth, tied with a silky length of what felt like ribbon. Glancing at Ron and Hermione, he didn't dare open it at the table. Instead, he kept his fingers wrapped around it for as long as he could, until Hermione asked why he was trying to cut his sausages one-handed. Throughout the meal, Harry ignored both Ron's grousing and Neville's repeated attempts to get his attention.

Finally, Ron talked with his mouth full for the umpteenth time; Hermione turned on him with a look of crazed exasperation and began to yell at him in earnest. Harry took the opportunity and slid the object out of his pocket, keeping it safely under the table and away from prying eyes. It was a tiny scroll, tied with a slim piece of red ribbon. On it was a simple message in what Harry was beginning to recognize as Draco's handwriting.

_Harry,_

_Need to talk to you, soon. It's important._

_Follow me out when I leave._

_-D_

Harry's head jerked up in the direction of the Slytherin table. To his dismay, there was no sign of Draco at his usual place. Before he could well and truly panic, he caught a flash of platinum by the door, and Harry met Draco's gaze a split second before he walked out of the Great Hall.

Cursing inwardly, Harry muttered something about his potions textbook to Ron and Hermione, neither of whom paid any mind, and walked hurriedly from the Hall.

As he exited, he saw Draco's lean form swoop across a landing and up another flight of stairs, away from Harry. Picking up his pace, Harry trotted after him, trying not to look to suspicious.

Harry emerged into the Transfiguration corridor, spotting Draco's head poking from the door of a nearby classroom. He gestured furiously for Harry to hurry, and after glancing to and fro, Harry dashed the last twenty feet and closed the door sharply, the darkness stifling them.

"_Lumos_," Draco hissed, and his wand tip flared brightly. "I'm sorry about this, Harry, I know we're supposed to lay low until the break, but I needed to tell you…"

"What?" Harry asked anxiously, pulling Draco towards one of the large tables before hopping up. Draco remained standing in front of him.

"I was coming back from the Room when I ran into Professor Snape," Draco explained in a hushed voice. "He didn't dock any points or anything, but he questioned me about where I'd been, what I'd been doing…. And that wasn't even the strangest part!"

Harry didn't think his eyes could get any wider. "What happened?"

"He asked me if I'd seen _you_ while I was up there. Not if I'd been _with_ you, but if I'd _seen _you."

Harry inhaled sharply. "I thought I saw him last night, when I was going back to the tower, but I was sure I just imagined it!"

Draco shivered, his wand light fluttering. "Don't get me wrong, Uncle Sev is great… I just don't think he's someone who can know about this."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "_Uncle_ _Sev_?"

Draco shrugged. "He's my Godfather. He's been present at every holiday of my life. Gives me potions ingredients for my birthdays. He's like family to me, even though he hates your guts."

Harry groaned. "Fantastic. Why couldn't you have Flitwick as a Godfather? Or Dumbledore?"

A vaguely flustered look crossed Draco's face. "Er- yeah, about Flitwick…"

"Oh, God! He saw you yesterday!" Harry's voice rose, and Draco shushed him. Continuing more quietly, Harry asked, "Is everything okay? Did he question you or something?"

"Not really… We just stared at each other for a minute and then ran off in different directions."

"Oh." Harry laughed a little. "And here I thought you were going to say you obliviated him or something." Draco squirmed. "You didn't! Did you?"

"No! But I… er… I thought about it, in case he's not trustworthy."

"How lovely," Harry said dryly.

Draco shrugged again and smiled crookedly. "What can I say? I would do anything to protect you."

Those warm, fuzzy feelings were back in Harry's chest. Then a thought occurred to him. "Hey… Why were you so nice to Ron?"

If anything, Draco looked miffed. "Nice? I wasn't _nice_ to him!"

"Compared to how you usually are? Yeah, you were nice."

Draco snorted, shaking his head, but there was a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I just figured that if I want him and Granger to like me one day, once all of this shit with the war is over, I should start trying to be neutral. Not _nice_."

Harry stared at him, smiling broadly. "You're the best, you know that, right?"

Looking slightly mollified, Draco gave his own grin free reign. "I like to think so, yeah."

Shaking his head slightly, Harry leaned in and pressed his lips to Draco's. He had to crane his head upwards at first, because Draco was still standing, but Draco quickly leaned down to get better access, sliding his hands slowly up and down Harry's sides. Harry did his best to pull Draco closer, feeling his knees part slightly around Draco's hips.

And just when Draco was settling him back on the table, his tongue sliding eagerly against Harry's, the door to the classroom flew open and a shout split the air.

"_Harry!_"

Harry snapped out of the kiss, his head snapping in the direction of the voice. He had to stretch his neck, but he could clearly see Neville standing in the doorway, his eyes wide with shock and his wand raised.

"_Bugger_," Draco hissed.

* * *

><p><em>The previous night:<em>

Twelve Grimmauld Place was silent. Or rather, it was silent on first inspection. If a person of particularly keen hearing were to listen closely at the bottom of the stairs, he or she might be able to catch a few shallow whines echoing faintly through the second floor's long, dim hallway.

Unfortunately, Remus Lupin was such a person.

He had hung up his coat, and had been about to call Sirius' name when his ears caught the first faint whimper. He'd paused, listened more carefully, his coat clutched in his outstretched hands in an almost comical fashion. The sound came again.

Slowly, with great trepidation, he placed his coat on the rack and made his way silently up the stairs to the first landing, his head tilted to capture any further sounds. The pained whines continued more clearly, and Lupin was frozen on the cold wooden platform for a long moment before he heard a sound that sent him into motion; a painful-sounding burst of retching.

Not even bothering to be quiet, Remus dashed up the remaining steps and down the hall to Sirius' room and threw open the door.

The sight took a few moments to comprehend. Sirius was on his knees, hunched over a bucket on the floor of his room, his shoulders heaving. The room was dark, the only light coming from the muted, dusty lamp that was lit in the hall. Sirius' hair was sweat-drenched and plastered to his skull, and there was a threadbare blanket tossed haphazardly around his shoulders. From what Lupin could discern, the bed was unmade to the point of not actually counting as a bed; pillows and sheets were strewn around the otherwise impeccable room, and the comforter was in a crumpled heap at the foot of the frame.

A breathless moment passed as Remus took in the state of his friend, and without further hesitation he dashed to Sirius' side, grasping his shoulders as Sirius retched and spat.

With a final sputter, Sirius scrubbed his mouth with the back of his hand and turned his head to look at his sudden companion. Remus inhaled sharply. His friend's face was drawn and pale, with deep circles under his heavy eyes. His shoulders trembled heavily beneath Remus' hands, and his forehead gleamed slightly with the slight perspiration of fever.

"What's happened?" Lupin questioned harshly, pressing one hand to Sirius' forehead and tightening the other on his shoulder as he swayed. "You're burning up. What _happened_, Sirius?" He repeated, but Sirius' eyelids were drooping, and with a curse, Lupin slid an arm under Sirius' knees and lifted, carrying him to the bed. After depositing him, he dove for the rumpled comforter and threw it over the prone body. A moment's hesitation came and went, and he made an effort to arrange it more evenly, tugging it down to cover Sirius' feet and tucking it in around his sides. Even through the heavy fabric, Remus could tell that Sirius had lost weight.

Sirius shuddered horribly in bed, clutching the thick comforter in his sweaty fists. Lupin lit one of the lamps and pulled a chair to his bedside, looking on helplessly.

"I don't understand. I don't understand what happened to you."

There was obviously no response. With a slight hiss of frustration, he stood and made his way quickly to the small fireplace on the opposite wall. A muttered spell conjured wood, and a second spell had flames roaring in seconds. Even the fire's light couldn't bring color to Sirius' face.

Kneeling, Lupin scrabbled for the small clay pot to one side of the hearth and tossed a bit too much powder into the flames. "The Burrow!" He called softly before ducking his head into the green flames, holding his breath for fear of smoke.

It was a bit like dunking your head in a barrel of water, only distinctly unpleasant and _wrong_, as though you had been expecting water and instead found the barrel's contents to be gasoline. Still, floo-calling was much quicker than most other forms of communication, and this instance required haste.

After a few unsettling seconds of blurry images, Arthur Weasley's concerned face came into focus. In his living room over his shoulders, Lupin could see a broom sweeping the floor all by itself. "Remus? What's the matter?"

"It's Sirius, he's ill. I don't know what caused it, but I'm no good as a Healer. I need Molly." Lupin spoke quickly, watching Arthur's expression darken with worry.

"Yes, I'll fetch her immediately," he said with a nod, disappearing from Lupin's range of vision. He waited with bated breath, partially because he was more on edge than he had been in months, and partially because there was still the matter of smoke to worry about.

Several long moments passed, and Molly bustled into his view, clutching a large, bulky black dragon-hide bag and wearing a grim expression. "You'd better move aside, Remus, I'm coming through."

Lupin nodded quickly and backed away, blinking to clear his eyes of ash as he made room in front of the hearth. With a sudden leap of the green fire, Molly appeared in the fireplace and stepped out, heading straight for the bed where Sirius shivered.

"How long has he been like this?" She asked hurriedly, placing her bag on Lupin's chair and reaching inside it.

"I got here a few minutes ago and found him. He was throwing up," Lupin responded, wanting to move closer but wary of getting in the way of Molly's work.

"I see. When was the last time someone checked on him, then?" She pulled a square of fabric from the bag and shook it slightly before pointing her wand at it and muttering something unintelligible. The cloth darkened with moisture, and she laid it across Sirius' forehead carefully.

"I was here at least a week ago, maybe less. He was a little pale then, sort of quiet, but I didn't think anything of it."

As he spoke, Molly was summoning a small jar of pale gold paste from the depths of her purse. She opened it by hand, and asked, "No one since then?" while she spread it thinly over Sirius' wrists and neck. A scent like autumn and sunshine wafted through the air, and Lupin could've sworn that Sirius stopped trembling quite so hard.

"I'm not sure. We'd need to ask him, or Dumbledore. You know no one stops in without him accepting it first."

Molly nodded once, frowning down at Sirius's face. "I don't think I've seen this before. I've given him honeydew extract to lessen the fever, and this," she lifted the jar, "is the best thing for his body. It reduces the strain of whatever this is, so he won't get any weaker fighting it off. Until I know what this is, I can't treat him without the chance of poisoning him." With a solemn glance towards Lupin, she sighed. "We'll need to get Dumbledore for this. He'll know what it is, he always does. Call him," she jerked her head towards the fireplace once, ginger hair flying. "and I'll see what more there is I can do for Sirius in the meantime."

Remus murmured an assent and turned to the fire, now the traditional orange and gold, but he cast a final glance at Sirius' profile before walking to the sooty marble hearth.

Again, he flung the powder into the flames. "Dumbledore's study," he said clearly before ducking into the fire.

A disorienting moment later, Lupin blinked to find Dumbledore's half-moon glasses flicking firelight back at him. A kind smile was resting on his face. "Hello, Remus. I'd hoped that this was a social call, and that nothing had gone wrong tonight, but your face tells me it's not so."

"It's Sirius," Lupin burst out. "He's ill, and we don't know why. Molly's here, trying to take care of him, but she can't do anything without knowing what it is, and she doesn't want to make it worse…" Lupin trailed off helplessly as Dumbledore gave a single, grave nod.

"I see. I am terribly sorry to ask this of the pair of you, but I shall need you and Molly to return to your homes. It is necessary that I see to this alone." Even the lines of Dumbledore's face were heavy with regret.

Lupin's mind went slightly blank. "You… you want us to leave him?"

"I'm afraid so. I will be along immediately to attend to him, and you can, of course, drop by in the morning once he's feeling better."

Lupin swallowed. "Dumbledore…"

With a sort of finality, the Headmaster said, "I must insist, Remus."

Lupin nodded shakily and backed from the fireplace without any further words. He felt slightly sick to his stomach.

"Well? Is he coming?" Molly called over her shoulder.

"He… wants us to leave."

"Wants who to leave? She asked absently, dabbing at Sirius' moist cheeks with a dry cloth.

"Us. Dumbledore wants us to leave."

Molly stopped dabbing abruptly, whirling around to face Remus with a stunned, slightly disbelieving look on her face.

"Us?"

"Us."

"…_Why?_"

"He didn't say," Lupin responded shortly, retrieving his scarf from the floor where it had fallen.

Molly looked like she might faint, or have an aneurism, or both. "_Dumbledore_… wants _us_… to _leave?_"

"Yes, Molly, and he was rather adamant about it, so you'd best get a move on," Lupin snapped slightly, immediately feeling guilty as Molly jumped at his tone, her hazel eyes wide.

"Yes, yes, well, I'm sure Dumbledore knows best," She murmured to herself as she gathered her supplies. Then, to Lupin: "Do you think I should leave any of this for him?"

"Er…"

"Yes, I think I will. You never know, do you?"

"…I suppose not."

Molly surprised him with a quick hug, and then she hastened to the fireplace, hunching to scrape some of the spilled floo powder on the floor, tossed it into the fire, and called out her home as she stepped into the flames and was whisked away.

Lupin stood in the doorway a moment longer, staring at Sirius' troubled, sleeping face, before turning down the hall towards the stairs.

He'd almost walked out when he remembered his coat on the rack. Heading back, he collected the well-worn wool article and was about to leave when a voice floated down the stairs and found its way into Lupin's treacherous ears. Then an answering voice.

Lupin stood frozen in the hall for a long minute, listening to the voices. They were muffled to the point where he couldn't hear words or tone, only the slight rise and fall of the pitch. It couldn't be Sirius, could it? Even Dumbledore wasn't powerful enough to heal someone that quickly.

But it had to be- who else would be speaking? Dumbledore wouldn't bring someone along after being so clear on his need to act alone, would he?

Before he'd even consciously decided to do it, Lupin was climbing the stairs silently, sneaking up to the landing, then to the first floor's hall. As he crept closer, the tones became clearer, but the words still ran together in a steady, rhythmic flow of nonsense. The speakers seemed to be concerned- but that was to be expected. After all, Dumbledore would be questioning Sirius to find out what had happened, and Sirius would be worried about how ill he'd been.

The door to Sirius' room was open a tiny crack, and the murmurs were becoming clearer with every step Remus took. He reached out a hand and pushed the door slightly, trying to make out the words.

The door's hinges made a terrible shriek, and then it was being wrenched out of his grasp. Dumbledore towered over him in the doorway, his blue eyes blazing with anger. "You shouldn't be here. Go, now!" He said in a voice that was full of cold fury.

Remus took off down the hall and down the stairs, the image of Dumbledore in the gap lodged in his mind's eye even as he Apparated off of the front step.

The last thing he'd seen before running was Sirius' form in the bed, still undeniably unconscious.

* * *

><p><strong>Aaarg, a double cliffhanger! When did I get so mean? XD<strong>

**But don't fret, my dears, the next chapter will be up soon! I have more time to write now that I'm on holiday break.**

**Also, anyone who can tell me where my chapter titles are from will receive cookies! :)**

**And now, I'm off to write some more. Well, first I'll eat. Then I'll write! **

**Sincerely,**

**Jester.**


	3. Known Unknowns

**Hello, All! I received a lovely review today from an anonymous reader who told me that they would be checking this story hourly to see when I updated. I believe I'm a little late, but hopefully this chapter won't disappoint.**

**There are some Just Relax references in here, so if anything is confusing, PM me and I'll do my best to clear it up.**

**Warning: Lemon!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own this, though I someday aspire to. )**

**Enjoy!  
><strong>

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><p><em><span>One Hour Ago:<span>_

Dumbledore watched gravely as Lupin's head disappeared from the fire and remained crouching for a moment before glancing over one shoulder. "Are you going to help an old man to his feet?" He asked wearily.

Lucius Malfoy quickly stepped from behind Dumbledore's desk- out of sight of the fireplace –and hurried to Dumbledore's side, offering him a hand with a facial expression that was torn between the nerves he had been feeling all night and the alarm that had surged the moment Lupin had appeared in the flames. As he helped Dumbledore to his feet, Lucius spoke quietly. "What's wrong with Sirius? He was fine the last time I saw him, and that was only a few days ago…"

Dumbledore absentmindedly stroked his beard with a sigh. "I have spoken with him frequently over the past few weeks. We have many things to discuss; namely, his lack of memories and your desire to change sides in this war. But only his mind concerns me now- if what he has been telling me holds truth, he is going through severe withdrawal every time he is away from you."

Lucius started as the pieces fell into place. "That's why you asked-?"

Dumbledore nodded somberly. "It is best that we keep your alliances a secret for the time being, even with our own. We don't want to put Draco or yourself in danger until it is essential. And although I don't doubt Remus' secret-keeping abilities, I fear for his safety should Voldemort-" Lucius twitched at the sound of the name, "-try to gather information from him, or any of the others. It is necessary- not to mention much safer -that he knows nothing until the timing is right."

Lucius nodded, forcing himself to meet Dumbledore's gaze. "You believe me, then? About wanting to change sides in this war?"

After Dumbledore had let Lucius into his office, he had listened. Lucius had talked for what had felt like hours, about his fears, his guilt, his worry and love for Sirius. Dumbledore never said a word (although his piercing blue eyes had seemed to be evaluating Lucius every step of the way) until the end, when Dumbledore had nodded once, and spoken briefly about the terms of his switching sides. It included some of what would be expected- the examination of a few memories, an Unbreakable Vow, etc- but then Dumbledore had talked about Draco. Not very much, but the few words lingered in Lucius' mind. ("You and your son have more in common than you might think." And with such a strange look in his eye- a combination of serious thought and not-quite-concealed amusement.)

"I do believe you, Lucius. Were any other Death Eater to approach me, I believe that I would send him back to your former master as a coffee mug; Transfiguration was my specialty, you know. But you know how hats like to gossip."

There it was again- that tricky, humorous gleam in Dumbledore's eye. Lucius' brow furrowed in confusion, but before he could ask Dumbledore to clarify, the glimmer was gone, and the Headmaster was serious once more. "We can discuss this further at a later date. In the meantime, I'm sure Molly and Remus are gone my now. We can safely take care of Sirius.

Lucius glanced at the clock on his way to the fireplace, wincing slightly. He was going to have to think of a fresh lie for Narcissa.

"You know the destination, I assume?" Dumbledore asked genially. At Lucius' nod, he took a pinch of powder from a small, porcelain bowl on the mantle above the fireplace, and tossed it into the fire, calling out, "Twelve Grimmauld Place!"

With a whoosh, he vanished, leaving behind a swirl of flames, ashes and smoke. Lucius took a pinch, but before stepping into the fire, he took a last look at Dumbledore's study. He had only been there a few times previously, and he's never really appreciated the delicate harmony of all of the tiny silver instruments scattered around the room, or the soft, warm, welcoming scent. He could've spent hours going from picture frame to picture frame speaking to the past headmasters and headmistresses. Not in their current condition, of course- Dumbledore had blindfolded and deafened every one of them so they would not run off to gossip once Lucius had left.

From his perch, Fawkes gave a disapproving coo, and Lucius finally tossed the powder into the fire and stepped in, en route to Grimmauld Place.

Clambering from the fireplace, Lucius resisted the urge to spit the ashy taste from his mouth and instead combed his fingers through his hair, trying to regain some semblance of aplomb. He shouldn't have bothered: the instant he caught sight of Sirius, he was at his side in an instant, grappling for his hand. "Sirius? Sirius, wake up."

"Being near him won't erase the effects immediately," Dumbledore said calmly from near the doorway. "Just make yourself comfortable somewhere close. We still have things to discuss."

"Yes," Lucius murmured, his eyes still locked on Sirius's closed ones. Then he shook himself slightly, straightened his shoulders, and met Dumbledore's gaze. "Yes, let's talk."

With a small smile, Dumbledore clasped his hands in front of him. "Wonderful. We've gone over the basics already, and what I would do if Sirius were awake would be to go over the process of restoring his memory. But-" He held up a hand to stop Lucius' eager questions. "-I wish to discuss it with the two of you, not separately. Therefore, let us return to the topic of you and your family.

"It is my desire that, for now, you remain a part of Voldemort's followers. Act normally, for that is the best way to guarantee your survival for as long as possible. Whatever you do, don't involve Narcissa unless you are given very strong reasons to believe that she is sympathetic to turning traitor alongside you."

Lucius nodded, shifting closer to Sirius. "And what about Draco?"

Dumbledore inclined his head slightly, his eyes elsewhere. "I believe that the two of you should discuss the various aspects of the situation privately. I believe you shall surprise one another."

Lucius frowned, and was about to ask Dumbledore about elaborating when something caught his eye. A shadow crept along the thin stream of light that Lucius could see in the doorway.

Without hesitation, Lucius threw himself to one side, just as Dumbledore whirled around to intercept the opening door.

His heart was pounding in his ears as Lucius lay still on the floor, and he heard the sharp tone of Dumbledore's voice a moment before the thumping of rapid footsteps sounded in the hall, then down the stairs. A moment later, Lucius pushed himself from the floor with one hand, staring up at Dumbledore in shock. "Who was-?" He began, but a sharp hand motion from Dumbledore halted the question's progress. There was a heavy _clunk_ that resounded through the house as the front door closed, and only then did Dumbledore relax, closing the door firmly behind him.

"Who _was _that?" Lucius demanded, getting to his feet and dusting off his robes before returning to Sirius' side.

"Remus Lupin. We were too hasty in our arrival, it seems." Dumbledore commented with a dark sigh.

Lucius straightened, a wary expression crossing his face. "You don't think he saw me, do you?"

Dumbledore pursed his lips slightly, conjuring a large, cozy-looking armchair that he proceeded to sink into with a soft sigh. "I doubt it- you were very quick. You gave me quite a fright until I realized what was happening."

"Sorry," Lucius grumbled gruffly. "I wasn't entirely sure what was happening, myself."

Dumbledore shrugged lightly, crossing his legs and folding his hands in his lap. "Yes, well, the danger has passed for the moment. Let us continue our discussion."

_Sirius always tip-toed through the Malfoy household, even when there was no one inhabiting it except for himself and Lucius and the elves. It was habit. Second-nature. After all, if someone else arrived suddenly for some inexplicable reason, he wanted to hear them before they heard _him_. _

_Plus, today was a day for being especially sneaky. Lucius had been hesitant to invite him over during the precious hours without Abraxas because of the imminent arrival of one of the Hogwarts professors to deliver some papers or other materials. Sirius had eventually decided to say no, but after the fire-call had ended, he had reconsidered. Plus, this gave him the opportunity to do something he rarely had the opportunity to attempt: surprise Lucius._

_With the older man's help over many months- and the help of an unsuspecting Moody, who had devised the charm –he had made a Gallivanter's Guide to Malfoy Manor. It worked about the same as the Marauder's Map, going so far as to show every elf in the kitchens, every inch of the grounds- even some of the lesser-known passageways and rooms. It had taken every bit of his artistic ability (which was quite a bit, he liked to think) to make the entire house to scale and to carefully label every room and person with his wand tip. As he found the courage to explore the house, he was gradually adding furniture to the map._

_Now, Sirius had brought it out and tapped it with his wand ("I solemnly swear that I'm finding a good lay," –a password that an all-too-smug Lucius had selected, much to Sirius' dismay) and could clearly see Lucius' dot perched behind his desk._

_Wand out, Sirius crept up one of the back staircases and up into the hallway of the second floor. He checked the Guide a moment before stepping around a corner and immediately scrambled away to hide behind a suit of armor as he caught sight of one of the house-elves making his way towards him from down the hall. Sirius held his breath as the elf passed, and let it out with a huff several moments later, once it was gone. Checking the Guide again, he quickly trotted around the corner and hurried to the door of Lucius' study._

_With a small smirk, Sirius grasped the handle and slowly turned it before pressing it open. The Malfoy family would never dare to let the hinges of their doors squeak. One advantage of that was the ability of a particularly clever Black boy to sneak up on his lover, even though the door was almost directly across from the desk. As Sirius had learned, Lucius was never very attentive to anything around him when he was working particularly hard._

_So it was with nimble fingers and carefully measured steps that Sirius crept into the office. Sure enough, Lucius was sitting behind his desk, his head in one hand and his hair falling to one side. His face was blocked by a heavy piece of cream paper that he appeared to be reading very insistently. Sirius could tell that he was dressed perfectly. As usual. One of Sirius' greatest satisfactions in life was watching Lucius walk away from one of their encounters looking significantly more ruffled than he had been to begin with. Silently closing the door, Sirius' smirk widened. This would be one of those times._

_Slipping up to the desk, he reached out and plucked the paper from Lucius' fingers. The blonde jumped rather spectacularly, staring wide-eyed at Sirius and going for his wand before he recognized the younger man. "Sirius! What in the name of Merlin are you-?"_

"_I decided to come see you after all." With a raised eyebrow, Sirius perched on the edge of Lucius' desk. _

_Letting out a flustered sigh, Lucius glanced at the clock as he ran a hand through his hair. "I'm not sure- Professor Flitwick will be here in fifteen minutes, I'm afraid we've missed our window…"_

"_Fifteen minutes? I can make it work," Sirius purred, smiling wickedly. He had come all this was for a _reason_ after all. It wasn't like he was going to walk away frustrated after all that sneaking he'd done. _

_Lucius raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really?"_

"_Well, _I_ think so, anyway. If you don't think you can manage, I suppose I could leave…" Hopping down from the desk, Sirius meandered towards the door, his smile widening with every step. There was no better way o tempt Lucius than to pretend to take away something he desired._

_Just before he was in reaching distance of the doorknob, Lucius' hands gripped his shoulders and spun him around, pressing him against the door sharply. Sirius lost his breath momentarily as he looked into Lucius' predatory gaze, but still managed to breathe out, "You changed your mind…?"_

_It was really all he had time to say before Lucius brought his mouth down hard on Sirius', muting any further comments and making Sirius try to press closer against the hold that remained on his shoulders. Lucius nipped Sirius' lower lip before demanding entrance with his tongue, to which Sirius surrendered with a shiver. Lucius devoured him hungrily, sliding his tongue along the room of Sirius' mouth and along his lover's own tongue until Sirius broke away for air, his hands clutching at the fabric of Lucius' shirt._

"_There's still time for you to go if you so desire," Lucius rumbled, his tone indicating that the concept was both vaguely amusing and entirely unacceptable._

"_Shut it," Sirius muttered, standing on his tip-toes to reach Lucius' lips without assistance. Lucius' entire body pressed Sirius' into the door, and as his body weight kept Sirius pinned, Lucius' hands began to wander._

_One slid innocently down Sirius' side, over to his hip. Sirius' hipbones were every bit as sensitive as the first time they'd met, and a firm, sliding touch was enough to turn Sirius' knees to jelly. From there, Lucius' hand ventured down to Sirius' thigh before roughly pulling his leg over Lucius' hip and rubbing their growing erections together._

_Sirius whined deep in his throat, leaning closer and pulling himself up with one hand in Lucius' thick hair and the other clinging to his neck as he lifted his other leg with Lucius' help._

"_Hold on," Lucius whispered harshly before gripping Sirius' ass firmly, eliciting a slight squeak from Sirius, and carrying him to the desk. He banished the papers from the gleaming surface with a wide sweeping motion, sending folders and files to the floor willy-nilly before depositing Sirius on the empty desk. _

"_Clothes," Sirius gasped between feverish kisses. "Off… now…."_

"_Happy to help," Lucius murmured against Sirius' lips. Straightening momentarily, he pulled his wand from his sleeve and waved it across Sirius' heaving chest. With a slight whirring sound, Sirius found himself to be rather abruptly and unceremoniously unclothed._

"_You've got to teach me that spell," he grumbled as Lucius' hands danced across his bare chest._

"_So you can use it without me? Not likely," Lucius chuckled, giving Sirius' nipple a last tweak before straightening and pulling off his tie and shirt._

"_Faster," Sirius urged, his erection aching and his skin burning with the absence of Lucius' hands and lips. Lucius did the opposite as he paused in taking off his belt, letting his eyes travel over the spread thighs and flushed body that was sprawled across his mahogany desk. His eyes glazed over slightly, and he licked his lips._

_He picked up his wand from the desk and muttered a spell, and moments later a small vial of lube met his hand. With his other hand, he forced Sirius' legs open wider and then moved to take Sirius' erection. The second his hand finally made contact, Sirius bucked with a gasp, his hands scrabbling across the smooth surface of the desk for something to hold onto, something to use as leverage so that he could push more firmly into the firm, controlling grip._

"_Don't forget to breathe," Lucius reminded craftily as he breached Sirius' entrance with two fingers. The Gryffindor swore loudly, wincing at the intrusion. If Lucius hadn't taken the time to slick his fingers, Sirius was sure that he would've torn something. However much he cursed, though, he liked rough sex and Lucius knew it. His erection never dwindled under the first few experimental jabs of the fingers- if anything, he only got harder._

_Above him, Lucius never spared the clock a glance before moving his free hand to the front of his trousers and undoing them. "Ready?"_

"_Just hurry the bloody fuck up!" Sirius snapped, trying to grind down onto Lucius' retreating hand._

"_Watch your mouth," Lucius growled playfully, gripping Sirius' hips firmly with one hand while slicking his cock with the other. Sirius struggled to relax, but he couldn't help tensing slightly in anticipation as Lucius guided Sirius' hips forwards._

_With a smooth motion, Lucius sheathed himself all at once. Sirius' back arched, taut as a bowstring as he clawed at Lucius' upper arms, his breath coming in harsh pants. "Move, go, I'm fine, just bloody _move _already- AH!"_

_Lucius pulled out almost entirely before plunging in again, grinding into Sirius with a groan. Sirius pressed closer, tossing one leg haphazardly over Lucius' shoulder and gripping the edge of the desk for leverage. He was positive that his legs would never close right again if Lucius pressed him open any wider, but he couldn't bring himself to care as the Slytherin began pounding into him in earnest, his blonde hair flying every which way._

_They established a rhythm, punctuated by Sirius' muffled gasps and moans as Lucius found the angle for his prostate and the occasional creak of the desk. Sirius felt the heat build in his nether regions, responding by pulling Lucius down for a sloppy kiss with teeth and tongue. It was a testament to Lucius' skill and resistance that the brutal pace never faltered, and Sirius let out a whine as the blonde slammed into his sweet spot particularly hard._

"_Oh, dear!"_

_Lucius' teeth caught Sirius' lip as he whipped out of the kiss, his hands gripping Sirius' hips hard enough to bruise._

_Professor Flitwick stood in the fire, green flames lapping at his heels as he stared, dumbstruck, into the scene before him, a handful of papers scattered across the hearth._

_Sirius was frozen, his lip beginning to bleed sluggishly as Lucius said coolly (but slightly breathlessly), "Just leave them there, Professor."_

_Flitwick never responded- just gaped for a few more moments before screeching, "Hogwarts!" and disappearing._

_Lucius turned back to Sirius, his gaze falling to the bloodied lip and turning regretful. "Sorry about that…"_

"_Don't _tell_ me how sorry you are," Sirius groused, "_Show_ me!" And with that, he rolled his hips, sinking further onto Lucius' cock._

_His partner's eyes darkened with lust. "Very well.… If you insist."_

_And with that, he shifted his grip on Sirius' hips and buried his erection in to the hilt. Sirius' nails bit deeper into Lucius' arms with every thrust, eventually smearing red under his fingernails. Nosing at Lucius' jaw, Sirius coaxed him into an open-mouthed kiss just as his orgasm hit. He shuddered, clutching Lucius' arms and pressing his torso against Lucius' as he cried out. Lucius' tongue rasped over his bloody lip just as he came as well, sent over the edge by Sirius' muscles trembling and milking him through the brunette's own climax._

_As they came down from their high, Sirius pressed his forehead to Lucius' and breathed deeply as Lucius kissed him slowly, running his tongue along the whole of Sirius' lower lip. Several long moments passed as they enjoyed the languid afterglow before Sirius pulled away slightly, licking his lips._

"_I hope there's no one else coming to interrupt our afternoon," Sirius whispered deviously, "Because I don't plan on you biting me again unless you ask permission first."_

_Lucius snickered deeply before responding, "You really think I need permission?"_

When he awoke, Sirius' first impulse was to utter as many swearwords as he could think of all in one go. His head pounded in time with his heart, his mouth tasted horrible, and his entire body ached just enough for him to dwell on it. He knew he'd been dreaming again, but as usual, he couldn't recall a thing about it. Even trying made his head pulse harder- a memory this time. Instead he listened to the soft voices swirling through the air, carrying him out of his numb stupor.

His eyes opened slowly, and he was grateful for the low lighting in the room. He was sure that anything greater would've blinded him, and added to the list of problems he was currently trying to process.

The first thing he saw once his eyes adjusted was his hand. There was something distinctly off about it, and it took a few seconds of puzzling before the realization clicked. There was another hand wrapped around his, clutching it with long, pale fingers with surprisingly immaculate nails.

Sirius' eyes followed the hand to the wrist, and then to the cuff of the shirt. Tracing the sleeve upwards, Sirius let out a soft sigh when his eyes rested on Lucius' face. Even the sight of it was like a balm on his sluggish, aching mind.

"L-Lucius…"

No sooner had the word left his mouth, the Slytherin was already turning sharply to look down at him with hopeful eyes. The hand on his tightened perceptibly as relief broke out of his calm exterior. "Sirius." He seemed to realize how his mask was slipping, and he snapped, "What's wrong with you? You never warned any of us that you were getting worse- it's a miracle Lupin found you when he did-"

"Remus?" Sirius thought hard, remembering spottily. "Ah, yes. I'd though he was a dream. Not _that_ kind of dream, Lucius," he scoffed at the stony expression that flitted across Lucius' face. "You haven't changed a bit."

"I do hope you're talking about my ability to think of the worst possible outcome of a statement," Lucius grumbled, but he couldn't hold on to the façade, and he smiled a rare smile.

"Ah, rekindled love," came a slightly amused voice from a few feet away. Sirius jerked and looked around wildly until his eyes latched onto Dumbledore's silhouette against the small fire.

"Dumbledore! When did you-?"

"I arrived shortly before Mr. Malfoy here. We've been waiting for you to wake up."

A gleam of panic settled into Sirius' eyes, only to be replaced by confusion a few moments later. "I don't understand… You _know?_ And you… you don't _care?_"

Dumbledore stepped closer, and the light from the lamp spread slowly across his face. "Oh, no, Sirius, I care deeply. Lucius and I have reached a- shall we say –_understanding_ of sorts."

"But we can get to that later," Lucius intervened smoothly. "As for this moment, I think Sirius and I both wish to learn of whatever plan you've devised to keep this," he gestured to Sirius' from in the bed, "from happening again."

_Meanwhile, at Hogwarts:_

Neville Longbottom stared in abject horror at the sight that lurked in McGonagall's Transfiguration classroom. He had spied as Harry had snuck in after Malfoy, but he hadn't been able to hear what words had been said- only tone, which had sounded odd enough on its own. He had thrown the door open, expecting to see Harry pointing his wand at Malfoy, or Malfoy pointing his wand at Harry, or both, but certainly not…_ this_. Certainly not Draco holding Harry down, with Harry making those little noises-

"Neville, what on earth-?"

Neville jumped a mile high as Harry called out hoarsely to him, but rather than hanging around to chat, Neville turned and began to run back from whence he'd come. His mind was practically blurring with scenarios, but one thing was ultimately clear- Harry was in trouble, probably being controlled by Malfoy, and he needed to find Ron and Hermione, or better yet, _Dumbledore_ to put him back in his right mind. From behind him he heard a muffled cursing, and then:

"Neville, wait, you don't understand!"

Footsteps rang out behind him, much more rapid than his own, and even though Neville put on a burst of speed as he neared the doors to the stairwell, something strong wrapped around his legs and sent him tumbling to the ground, hard.

More footsteps approached, and through a haze of terror, Neville heard, "Draco! You didn't have to _tackle_ him, for Merlin's sake-"

"How else was I supposed to catch him?" An indignant voice asked from somewhere below Neville's left knee.

He struggled wildly, but Harry had one arm and Malfoy had a brutal grip on one elbow. "Harry! Harry, you don't know what you're doing, you've been Confunded or something," Neville gibbered, "But you need to listen! I'm on your side, you need to snap out of it and _help me_-"

"Neville, please, just hear me out!" Harry pleased as they pushed through the doors to one of the empty classrooms. "Look, if you just sit down and let us talk, I'll explain everything, I swear!"

"No we blood well won't!" Malfoy snapped, looking startled. Neville actually noticed his appearance for the first time, taking in the ruffled clothes and less-than-perfect hair. Harry, by comparison, was still much worse, with his hair in complete disarray and his clothes hopelessly disheveled.

"We need to be honest!" Harry insisted.

"Why? We can just obliviate him now, and he'll be none the wiser! It fits better with Dumbledore's orders, anyhow…" Malfoy sat Neville down in one of the chairs and sent Harry an exasperated look.

"Well, you see, it's a bit more complicated than that," Harry mumbled, running a hand through his hair and somehow making it even messier. "He… caught me. Coming back from… well, last night."

Malfoy's face went from shock to incredulity in two seconds. "And you didn't tell me?"

"I forgot!" Harry protested, gesturing frantically as he recounted running into Neville in the dorm room. Neville watched them warily, and considered making a run for it. He decided against it, though, and instead sunk lower in his seat as they turned to him.

"Alright, Neville," Harry sighed, despite Malfoy's sour expression. "Let's go see Dumbledore, and if you aren't satisfied by then, you can do as you please."

* * *

><p><strong>(Just to clarify, Sirius' wet dream was indeed a memory. XD)<strong>

**Hope you all enjoyed! Th next update may take a while, as it is the holiday season, but I wish you all a very special Holiday, whichever you celebrate! :)**

**Sincerely,**

**Jester.**

**P.S. I wouldn't mind a review for Christmas... ;)**


	4. The Boy With the Answer

**Hello, Everyone! A Happy New Year to you all!**

**I would have posted this much sooner, but I have been having some personal troubles (namely, getting my heart broken) that have delayed my writing considerably.**

**I briefly want to address my title identity search. So far, no one has answered correctly for One or Three, but kudos to Crowngirl2 and xXShallowBelieverXx for answering number Two correctly- it was from a Friends episode. :D**

**But enough about your writer's silly life, go read! :)**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. I'm still working on it, though, no worries...**

**Warning: Slashy themes, though no ACTUAL slash. Just so you know. )**

* * *

><p>Harry took a deep breath, and Neville seemed to shrink slightly in his chair, as though he feared the words that would follow. Maybe he still expected to be obliviated, or worse. Harry was perched on one of the desks that were arranged in neat rows, whereas Neville was below him in one of the student's chairs.<p>

"It started about a month ago." Harry began hesitantly, running an uneasy hand through his hair. Draco shifted his weight and crossed his arms where he stood by the door, a slightly sour expression on his face every time his eyes flicked to Neville and away. Every so often, he would glance through the crack in the doorway to ensure that they were still alone. "Draco and I met for a duel late one night, and we ended up trapped in a room with a rare breed of Devil's Snare. It was… different… in a few ways, but primarily, it made Draco and I recognize what we felt for one another."

Neville recoiled slightly as he made a strangled noise deep in his throat, and Draco's head whipped around. "You don't mean you two actually-?"

"Let him talk," Draco seethed, his eyes narrowed. There was a smattering of talk from the hallway beyond the door, and Draco cast a hurried glance into the hall, closing the door a fraction of an inch more.

Harry sent him a sharp look before turning back to Neville, his face anxious. "It's true. Draco and I had feelings for one another long before any of this started. The Devil's Snare was just a bit of a… wake-up call."

"How did it… er… wake you up?"

At Harry's vivid blush, Neville blanched. "Oh, Merlin, you don't mean-"

"Let him talk," Draco snapped again, his face tinted ever-so-slightly pink.

"We figured out what was going on, and so did Dumbledore, eventually. He didn't believe that we actually cared about one another right away, but he knew something had to be done, so in the meantime he found us a place to go when the plant called us."

"Called you?" Neville interrupted with a little flinch.

Draco whirled around, grey eyes blazing with frustration and a touch of anxiety. "Would you just-!"

"Draco, stop it. He's just a little in shock, you'd be the same way if you were in his shoes." Harry's voice was sharp, but his eyes turned warm the instant they met Draco's.

After a moment, he continued. "Anyway, Dumbledore and Professor Sprout figured out that all they needed to do was burn the plant, which was easier said than done. Even with all of the professors helping, I'm not sure how they managed to kill it… But we're not getting any more middle-of-class summons, so it must be dead.

"Afterwards, we- Draco and I- still had feelings for each other. Draco has… well, he's decided…" Harry trailed off awkwardly, sending Draco a sideways, questioning glance.

"I've decided to join the Order of the Phoenix instead of the Death Eaters, to put it simply," Draco said shortly. His eyes never left the hallway, and his jaw was tense. "For now, that's a dangerous choice to make. Dumbledore has decided that in order to keep my family safe for the time being, no one can know about my joining you. Or my reasons for joining. Which is why telling _you_ everything is entirely irresponsible and ridiculous. If it were just me, I'd have Obliviated you long before now."

Neville gaped wordlessly for several long moments. Harry rubbed under his eyes tiredly. "If you don't believe us, Neville, we can go to Dumbledore," Harry said quietly. "He'll confirm everything. As it is, you'll have to swear your secrecy."

"But…" Neville started quietly, staring intently at Harry. "Ron and Hermione know, right? I mean, you can trust them, you aren't keeping this a secret from _them_, are you…?" At Harry's lack of response, Neville's hand fluttered towards his wand. "But that's mad, Harry! You know Ron and Hermione can be trusted!"

"Dumbledore's orders," Draco muttered from the door. "No one can know." He didn't meet Harry's eyes.

"Well, that's a load of shite!" Neville exploded, making Harry and Draco jump. "Like Hell Dumbledore wouldn't let you tell them- they're your best bloody friends! If anyone would understand it would be them!"

"It's not that simple, Neville," Harry murmured, cradling his head in one hand.

"Not that-? Bloody Hell, Harry, what potion have you been drinking? You can't seriously believe that Dumbledore wouldn't let you tell them- I mean, you must've asked, but you can always ask again-"

"_Stop it!_" Harry bellowed, shocking Neville into a stunned silence and making Draco wince in surprise and at the sudden volume. "Neville, you have _no idea_ what we've gone through, and you have absolutely _no right_ to assume that you do after talking with us for two bloody minutes! You don't know how hard it is, not telling them, hiding this from them! You don't know how hard it is to imagine their faces when I tell them what I've been… what I've been doing with…"

A single glance betrayed his unsaid words, and Draco's face flashed with bone-deep hurt for the split second it took to summon his mask of cold uncaring. He left without a word, leaving Harry staring after him, shocked by his own near-admission, and Neville staring at Harry with wide eyes.

A moment slipped by before Harry leapt from his chair so fast it tumbled to the ground and dashed to the door. "Draco, _wait!_" He shouted, wrenching open the heavy doors and looking around frantically outside. Draco was nowhere to be seen.

Harry stood in the doorway, frozen, until a gaggle of second years rounded the corner a ways away and began trotting towards them. Only then did he let the door fall shut and lean his forehead against the carved wood, his eyes shut tight and his jaw clenched so as not to let out a single traitorous sound or tear.

Neville's timid voice broke the silence. "You really love him, don't you?"

Harry broke away from the door unsteadily, fixing Neville with an indecipherable look. "…love?"

"I can see it in the way you looked at him. I thought I was imagining it, but…" Neville shook his head slowly, deep in thought as Harry staggered to a chair and lowered himself into it. "I won't say anything to anyone, Harry. But whatever's making you hold out on telling Ron and Hermione, you'd better get over it. You need their support, and the longer you wait, the more they'll struggle with the truth when you finally screw up the courage to tell them."

"Screwing it up is what I'm worried about," Harry muttered. Neville sent him a wry smile.

"In the meantime, I'll try to help when I can. Mind you, I have no desire whatsoever to know the details of whatever it is you do or have done with _Malfoy_ of all people, but that doesn't mean I'm not willing to cover for you every now and then."

Neville stood, and made his way slightly shakily to the door. Just before he opened it, he paused. "If you do love him, go after him. Just be careful, Harry." And then he was gone.

Harry buried his face in his hands, struggling to push back the budding tears. He couldn't believe what had just happened- from getting chewed out about telling Ron and Hermione by Neville, to shouting at Neville about being chewed out, to being told _by Neville_ that he _loved _Draco…

_Do you?_ A little voice asked, deep down. _Do you love him?_

I don't know! Harry wanted to scream back. How the hell am I supposed to know if I'm in love?

_You just… know._

Harry scrubbed at a few flecks of moisture which had escaped. Well, either way, he needed to track Draco down and try to explain himself. He sure as hell didn't feel worthy of forgiveness, though.

* * *

><p>Dumbledore faced Sirius and Lucius squarely across the room. The pair of them sat on the bed together, Lucius above the blankets and Sirius below, with Sirius leaning ever-so-slightly against Lucius' shoulder.<p>

"My idea is rather complex," Dumbledore began slowly, his eyes flicking back and forth between the two faces before him. "But seeing as I have a school of young wizards to attend to, I'll just go over the basics for the time being. The reason that Sirius goes through withdrawal is because his mind is slightly fractured. The lack of memory is more than enough to drive most men insane, but because of the combination of the pensive and Sirius' Animagus form, we have been able to stave off that unfortunate alternative. The withdrawal is a physical manifestation of the psychological impairment due to the lack of memory. It is my belief that because so many of the absent memories contain various aspects of Lucius' being- appearance, smell, etc- that Lucius' proximity helps to mitigate the effects.

"Rather than have Sirius permanently rely on Lucius, or on the pensive, it is my intention to remove the memories from the pensive and replace them in Sirius' mind." Dumbledore held up a hand to keep the two of them silent. Sirius' eyes were wide with apprehension and eagerness. "It is a very rare, extremely dangerous procedure, which is why I have not attempted it before, but now that our situation has grown direr..." Dumbledore sighed, shaking his head slightly. "If even the slightest detail were to go wrong, Sirius' mind could be permanently damaged beyond repair.

"We will need to do this soon, as to ensure that there won't be any more incidents such as the one that occurred last night. A day over the holiday break will have to do, seeing as there will be far fewer incidents for me to worry about at Hogwarts. You, Lucius, will also need to be present, so you may want to put some time aside. No more than a day or so, I should think."

"Of course," Lucius murmured. "With Draco staying at Hogwarts, it should be easier."

Dumbledore nodded, steepling his fingers in his familiar pose. "Very good. I take it you still practice your Animagus form?"

Lucius stiffened slightly and half-cast Sirius a querying look.

"I see what you're thinking, Lucius, and the answer is no- I knew all along. Transfiguration was my specialty, you know… But let's not dwell on the details quite yet. Your presence is necessary, as I have already stated, but we don't want Sirius to be entirely focused on you. We need him calm, relaxed for this procedure. I believe that your Animagus form is unobtrusive enough to serve our purposes."

Lucius raised an eyebrow. "I don't usually use the word 'unobtrusive' to describe my form." Sirius snorted slightly, and coughed half-heartedly to cover it up.

"Well, in this case, unobtrusive is just the word for it." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled merrily for another moment before he sobered once more. "I fear that I am needed at Hogwarts. I often leave unexpectedly, but I had no time to warn Minerva of my departure, and therefore it is more urgent that I return before she begins asking after me. After all, we wouldn't want more members of the Order poking their heads in unnecessarily, would we?" He stood with a sweeping motion. "Do be in touch about the dates. I will continue to research and study what little information there is on this subject in the meantime, but having a secure plan always makes one feel… well, more secure."

With a nod and a smile, Dumbledore glided towards the fireplace. He was just bending to snatch a pinch of Floo Powder when Sirius spoke up hesitantly. "Draco isn't coming home for Christmas?"

Dumbledore didn't turn as Lucius looked over at Sirius' puzzling expression. "No, he's not. Why?"

"Harry isn't coming home, either."

Dumbledore smiled to himself as he felt the gazes of the two men on his back. "Well, it seems you two have quite a lot to talk about. I'll leave you to it, shall I?"

Without waiting for an answer, Dumbledore tossed his handful of powder into the fire, and stepped forwards with a soft call of, "Hogwarts," before being swept away by the roaring flames.

* * *

><p>Lucius stared at the now-orange fire for a moment before turning back to Sirius and saying, "You've just been told that we're making a last bid for your sanity in a life-threatening procedure that has practically never been successfully done before, and all you take away from that little lecture is that <em>Draco<em> isn't coming home for the bloody _holidays?_ Aren't you the least bit worried about losing your mind?"

Sirius smiled wearily. "From what people tell me, it's mostly lost already, anyway. Now," he straightened, and looked Lucius squarely in the eye. "what on earth are we going to do about our sons?"

* * *

><p>Harry walked down the final flight of stairs and into the main entryway, his breath making little white puffs in the cold air. One of the enormous doors was open just a crack, occasionally letting in a burst of snowflakes with every particularly strong gust of wind. Wrapping his arms around himself with a shudder, Harry shouldered the door open and walked out onto the grounds.<p>

There were a good number of footprints leading away from the doors, but almost all of them branched out in clusters of twos or threes. Only one pair broke off alone, winding towards the gentle crest of hilltop that hid part of the Forbidden Forest from view. Harry trekked forward, following the footsteps and wishing with all of his might that Draco would just come out of hiding and not make Harry stumble across all this bloody snow in only his day-clothes. He was fairly sure he would've given one of his thumbs for a coat right about then, but he went on anyway.

The footsteps wound uncertainly around the grounds in the direction of the hill, occasionally accompanied by a scuffed-up smattering of scattered snow, as though Draco had kicked at the snowdrifts out of frustration.

Rounding the hilltop, Harry stopped abruptly as he caught sight of windblown white-blond hair and a black school uniform, tucked just out of view from anyone who wasn't right on top of the hill. Draco was sitting with his arms folded, resting on his bent knees with his chin perched on top of it all. His hair was the only thing that moved, dancing in the wind and contrasting sharply with his overall stillness. Even his eyes didn't move. Instead, they were fixed on some distant tree or mountain, and didn't flicker even as Harry crunched softly through the snow to stand next to him.

"Draco?" Harry whispered, his voice barely rising above the whistling wind. "Draco, can we just talk about this?"

Draco turned his head away slightly. "Not now, Harry."

Harry stared at him incredulously, his arms winding more tightly together against the cold. "What do you mean, not now?"

"I mean," Draco responded sharply, "I can't go through this with you right now."

"Go through _what?_"

"Go through _this!_" Draco finally looked at him, eyes blazing. "I'm too bloody upset right now to even think about speaking rationally to you."

Harry fought the urge to throw up his arms in frustration. "That's fine! Speak to me irrationally! But can't I just _apologize_ for-"

"I said not now, Harry," Draco interrupted harshly. His face turned back to look over the Forbidden Forest. "Just leave it. We'll talk about this some other time."

"No, we bloody well won't! Draco, for Merlin's sake, I didn't mean what I said-"

"Like hell you didn't!" Suddenly Draco was on his feet, the inch and a half of height he had over Harry seeming like much more. "You think I don't see the look in your eyes when we talk about telling your friends? You think I don't get it? You're _ashamed,_ Harry. You're _ashamed _of _me_. Do you have any idea how hard that is? How _shitty _that feels?"

Harry was locked into place on the hill. "Draco, no…"

"Don't you dare try to tell me differently. I'm a _Slytherin_, I'm a _Death Eater's son_. I'm the person who's pulled endless shit on you and your friends over the years. There's an abundance of reasons for them to hate me, but when you come right down to it, you're the last person who should be ashamed of me. You are the only person I've ever gotten _close _to, the only other person here who I've _trusted_. Do you have any idea how much it hurts to think that after all I've done, all I've tried to do to prove myself to you, you can't even bear to tell your best mates because of who I _was?_ Who I_ used to be?_" Draco's mouth twisted bitterly as he looked away. "I had feelings for you for years, Harry. You think I never realized that I wasn't good enough for you? That you represented the best of our generation, and I represented the worst? Do you even know how many times I lay awake at night, wishing that I could just be someone else so that I would even have a _chance_ to be with you? And then, after all that, to have you confirm everything I've feared since I first felt something for you… It's hell, Harry, don't you understand that? It's hell." Draco's voice broke, and he looked away sharply, back at that distant something on the horizon.

Harry couldn't speak. Draco closed his eyes after a few seconds, turned away with a heavy exhalation, and began walking down the slope of the hill.

"H-hey!" Harry shouted after him. He didn't stop. "Draco, don't you walk away from me! Of course I worry about telling Ron and Hermione, but not because I'm… _Would you bloody listen to me?_"

Harry stood his ground, panting, watching Draco stride farther down the hillside without looking back or faltering. With a growl, he started after the Slytherin.

"Draco, I don't care how far I have to chase you into those Goddamn woods, I'm not going to let you put this off. I don't _feel ashamed_ of you, that's bloody _mad_, I just think it's a lot for them to take in… Draco, are you even _listening _to me?"

Draco turned and walked backwards, throwing his hands up in the air with an exasperated, tired, _sad_ look on his face. "It hurts to even _think _about this right now, much less try to talk about it. I _can't_, Harry, I just can't. I would love to tell you it will all be okay, but until you tell me the truth, I don't it will be until you figure out what your feelings are." He turned back to face the woods again, now nearly to the outer fringe of trees.

"My feelings- _my _feelings!" Anger pounded through Harry's head, and Neville's words rang in his ears as he shouted, "_I love you, you stupid bastard!_"

Draco whirled around, finally stopping dead in the snow as he stared up at Harry in absolute bewilderment. Harry stood frozen in his tracks, shocked at the words that had come out of his mouth. The more he rolled them over in his head, the more _right_ they felt, the more they defined the churning storm of feeling and sensation beneath his breastbone. "I love you," he said again, more softly, watching Draco reel slightly from the words.

Then, with sure steps, Harry strode forwards and placed his hands on either side of Draco's chilled face before kissing him firmly on the mouth.

Draco was motionless beneath his hands, and when Harry broke away, he was staring at the Gryffindor with absolute shock. "…love me? You… you _love_-_?_"

"Yes. I do." Harry said breathlessly. "And I'll do whatever it takes to prove it to- mmph!"

Draco kissed him fiercely, placing his hands on either side of Harry's waist and pulling him closer. Harry's knees felt slightly weaker than before, and he slipped his arms around Draco's neck to touch more of him, be closer to him.

When they finally broke apart, Harry absently noticed that fresh snow had begun to fall, and the flakes were collecting on Draco's shoulders and in his hair. But his gaze was locked onto Draco's, and he didn't feel quite so cold anymore.

"I love you too, you silly, brave Gryffindor," Draco whispered, resting his forehead against Harry's in a rare moment of gentle affection before kissing him sweetly.

Harry thought he would've fallen over if Draco hadn't been holding him so firmly. Pressing even closer, Harry fisted his hands in Draco's jacket collar, catching a few stray hairs that Draco didn't seem to mind missing.

"I'll tell them," Harry murmured as they broke away for air. "I'll go and tell them, right now, if that's what it takes for you to believe me. I am not ashamed of you, Draco."

Draco stared insistently into Harry's eyes for a few long moments, seeming to evaluate his very soul. Harry shivered slightly under the scrutiny.

"No."

Harry's eyes widened. "W-what?"

"Tell them when you're ready. My forcing you isn't fair, so I'll take you at your word." At that moment, Draco had never looked wiser or more serious. Harry nodded jerkily, looking bewildered, and Draco smiled slightly, kissing him once on the nose. "I told you I loved you, didn't I? How can I love you if I don't trust you?" Without waiting for an answer, he took Harry's freezing fingers in his and tugged him towards the hilltop. "Now, come on. If we stand around in the snow much longer, we'll both freeze to death, and although it would be a poetic end, it doesn't sound particularly fun."

* * *

><p>Severus Snape's back was pressed firmly to the tree behind him, his eyes wide as they stared ahead vacantly. He listened intently as Potter and his Godson walked away, murmuring sweetly to one another and occasionally laughing quietly. Only when he was sure they had left for good did he relax his shoulders and peek around the massive Yew trunk that he hid behind.<p>

Sure enough, Draco and that Potter brat were silhouetted for a moment against the sky before they set off down the other slope of the hill, the platinum head leaning down slightly to whisper something in the other boy's ear. Potter swatted at Draco's arm for a few moments before letting himself be drawn in for a kiss.

Severus quickly looked away, ducking back behind his tree. To soothe his racing mind, he focused on the potions ingredients that he had crushed in his gloved hands, swearing slightly. The Moonflower's delicate dried leaves had crumbled to powder in his harsh, surprised grip.

As he ventured back into the forest, stepping in his own footsteps to find the plant, his thoughts chased one another around his head. He needed to tell Lucius. This was terrible, this was horrible! If Draco meant what he said, then this would turn the Dark Lord against the Malfoys for generations-

Severus stopped short. The Dark Lord would turn against the Malfoys… and they would come to the Order of the Phoenix for aid. An idea began to form in Severus' mind, and a small smile wormed its way onto his face. He knew how to save his best friend, and his Godson.

Forgetting about the Moonflower leaves entirely, Severus turned around and quickly made his way towards the castle- more specifically, towards Dumbledore's office.

* * *

><p>What he didn't see was a shadow, masked by the thick underbrush near the edge of the Forbidden Forest, creeping towards the castle. A shadow that had heard everything that Severus Snape had heard, and had a far less benign use for the information.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Well, I answered most of your insistent questions in this chapter... and introduced a whole bunch more! XD Sorry, guys, but these dreadful, suspenseful little things just come naturally to me, and who am I to deny such a gift? *evil laugh*<strong>

**I do hope you have time to review, but if you don't, or if you just plain don't want to, I understand. (*sigh*) They do make me write faster, though... ;)**

**Sincerely,**

**Jester.**

**P.S.: Additionally, Dec. 29th was the anniversary of the first chapter of _Just Relax_! How cool is that? :D**


	5. Shadows Rising

**Hey, guys! I know, this is WAY overdue, and I'm _so_ sorry for making you all wait! Thank you for being patient with me!**

**I didn't have a chance to edit (I was sure you guys would want this ASAP!) so let me know if there are any blatant errors.**

**To Some Random Fan: I was very impressed with your correct naming of my chapters- you nailed every single one! Asking people is certainly not cheating, just so you know. Even if it was, I would still be very satisfied with your answers. I'm very glad that you like my stories so far!**

**Warning: Slash! Lemons! Awesomeness!**

**Disclaimer: Yes. I am J.K. Rowling, no matter what those mean men in white coats tell me. :)**

** Enjoy, lovelies!**

* * *

><p>The shadow pushed his way through the main door, stomping his boots forcefully to shake free the snow that caked his boots. His eyes shifted left and right, but there was no sign of Potter and Malfoy. He let out a frustrated breath and set off down one of the side corridors. It was all for the better, really- if he acted without consulting one of his fellow Death Eaters, without getting some sort of proof, it was likely that he would be killed by the Dark Lord, assuming that Lucius Malfoy didn't get to him first.<p>

_I love you, you stupid bastard!_

_I love you too, you silly, brave Gryffindor._

The words echoed in the shadow's head, and he shuddered. To think that Draco would betray them so severely… and it was betrayal, after all. The shadow had little doubt. If Draco were on some kamikaze mission to infiltrate Potter's heart, he would have known about it.

A loud burst of idiotic laughter from further down the passageway made him jerk his head upwards in search of the source of the sound. The Weasley twins, Geoff and Flint or something like that, were trotting down the hall, arms tossed over each other's shoulders as they chortled at something inane, no doubt. He did his best to shrink into the wall beside him, to no avail.

"What are you doing lurking in the castle?" One of them called out impudently.

"I'm a student here, unlike _you_," he sneered. "What are two blood-traitors like you doing in Hogwarts? Come to finish your education? I doubt Dumbledore would admit you even if you _begged_."

The pair dropped their grins like last year's robes (although, from the looks of it, that was exactly what they wore). The one of the left, Farley or something, looked at his brother and back to the shadow. "You shouldn't be so disrespectful, mate. We're your elders, after all."

"Why the bloody fuck should I give a-"

He didn't finish his sentence. The other one, Gibson, leapt forwards and grabbed him by his collar with one hand while his brother opened the door to a rickety-looking wardrobe and shoved him inside face-first. The door slammed shut behind him, making the entire structure shake like a leaf in the wind.

The shadow got to his feet, wiping at his mouth where the skin had broken from his impact with the inside of the cabinet. It was pitch-black, without even a trace of light near the seam around the edges of the door frame. He shoved twice against the door, but it held as though he'd only stroked it. There was a moment of near-silence as he was alone, seething, his breath coming in harsh, angry pants. Then his robes swirled around him and the air turned red-hot as he was swept away.

* * *

><p>Outside, in the hall, the twins looked at one another. "That wasn't the vanishing cabinet, was it?" Fred asked lightly.<p>

George shrugged. "Hell if I know. Now come on, we're late. Even Dumbledore gets mad if we're too tardy."

* * *

><p>Hermione tapped her pen anxiously against her textbook, looking at the clock for the umpteenth time as Ron snored beside her, his head on his arms. Harry had been gone for more than an hour. She hadn't even noticed when he'd left because she'd been so involved in her argument with Ron. He was just there one moment and gone the next. Ron had assured her that he had said… had said <em>something<em>…

"Ron, what did you say Harry told you before he left?"

Ron jolted awake with an unseemly snort, and rubbed his eyes blearily. "What?"

"You said Harry said something to you before…?"

"Would you give it a rest?" Ron groaned, propping his head up with one hand and staring at her. "He just said something about a textbook, all right?"

Hermione slammed her textbook, making Ron jump. "Ron, don't you think Harry's been acting odd lately?"

"Eh. He's just not sleeping well. A couple of yawns and you think the guy's been…" He paused. "What exactly _do_ you think? You're all suspicious, but you never actually tell me what you think is going on with him. Not that _I _think anything is going on," He added quickly when Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"I think he's been… I mean, what I'm trying to say is…" she sighed, looking a little lost. "Oh, I don't know what to think. I just can't shake the feeling that something isn't right with Harry these days. He's been acting strangely ever since… since…" Hermione's brow furrowed as she thought hard. Beside her, Ron sighed and put his head back down on his arms.

"Wake me when you figure it out, 'Mione. I still think you're obsessing over nothing."

Hermione glared at the back of Ron's head, but after a moment, she sighed again and looked away. Sometimes she wondered if Ron's brain was muddled from the excess of food and drink that he seemed to endlessly consume. To her, it was obvious. The dark circles under Harry's eyes, the way he couldn't keep his eyes open in class… something was going on, something he wasn't telling them about. It wasn't as though she could just ask him what was bothering him. If he wanted to tell them, he would've done it by now. Wouldn't he?

If it were really something big, Dumbledore could have asked him not to tell the two of them about it. After all, he had made them swear not to tell Harry about the Order of the Phoenix during the summer prior to their fifth year…

Hermione rubbed her temple in frustration. She hated this, letting her thoughts chase themselves in circles and trying to solve a puzzle without all the pieces. What she hated more, however, was that Harry hadn't told them the truth about whatever was plaguing him.

Soft snores came from Ron's side of the table. Hermione opened her textbook again, but for once she couldn't concentrate on ancient runes. Worry for Harry gnawed at the pit of her belly, and she glanced once more from the clock to the portrait hole.

Something was wrong, and she was going to find out what.

* * *

><p>Harry's teeth chattered ferociously as they snuck through the halls. The drafts that swept through the building were decidedly <em>un<em>helpful in warming him up. He and Draco were both soaked through with half-melted snow and ice water, and Harry was beginning to wonder if this was what hypothermia felt like.

"We've got to get warmed up," Draco murmured. Although he was outwardly fine, his arms were wrapped tightly around his torso, as though he were trying to trap the remaining heat inside his body. "You look like Moaning Myrtle. And your lips are turning blue."

"Oh, you charmer," Harry muttered. "Any more bright ideas?"

"Actually," Draco said slowly, "I may have another ace up my sleeve. Come on, we'll need to hurry."

"Draco, what are you- hey!" Draco grabbed Harry's wrist and dragged him into a closet, shutting the door swiftly in their wake. "What are you- mmph!"

Harry glared at Draco over the hand that covered his mouth. Draco was serious but smiling. "Shh…" A loud peal of laughter echoed down the hall where they had been moments before, followed by rapid, jubilant speech. As the voices drew nearer, Draco shifted his hand slightly and pressed a kiss to Harry's throat, pushing Harry into the wall with his body. Harry moved into the warmth, shuddering gratefully before he gasped into Draco's palm. The Slytherin had bitten the exposed skin under Harry's jaw before rasping his tongue over the reddened marks. Draco's free hand worked its way down to Harry's ass, cupping and kneading gently. Harry pressed into the touches, a heat flaring in his groin despite his cold skin.

The voices reached a crescendo outside the door to the closet, filtering through the haze that surrounded Harry and half-triggering a memory. He frowned slightly, his hands absentmindedly sneaking along Draco's waist as he struggled to place the voice. It was another fading burst of laughter that did it.

Harry's eyes went wide, and he tugged at Draco's wrist. He relented. "That was Fred and George!"

Draco frowned, but the news didn't stop him from sliding his hand over Harry's butt or resting his other hand on Harry's hip. "The Weasley twins?"

"Yeah…. They dropped out, I have no idea why they'd be back."

"Well, we can wonder on the way. Come on." Harry yelped slightly as Draco grabbed his wrist and abruptly dashed out of the closet, hauling Harry after him. "Where are we going?" Harry demanded, but Draco didn't respond. Harry bit his lip, wondering if he should mention why running was a bad idea at the moment, but even thinking of saying it out loud made him blush furiously. He decided to just bear it.

* * *

><p>Sirius conjured a quill and summoned a scrap of parchment from across the room under Lucius' gaze. "We need to write what we know so far to keep everything straight."<p>

"Not a bad idea," Lucius agreed, tossing an arm over his eyes. He'd woken up a whopping twenty-two hours previously. He had gone longer without sleeping in the past, of course, but he hadn't been resting well the past few weeks to begin with, worrying about Sirius.

"Oi, you. Wake up, I'm fed up with being in the dark about this." Sirius poked Lucius in the side with his quill and the blonde started, blinking furiously before rubbing his eyes and sitting up straight.

"Yes. Right. Facts."

Sirius rolled his eyes with a snort, pushing some stray hairs out of his face. "You're absurd when you're tired, I'd forgotten that. Now come on, we haven't got all day."

Lucius nodded with a wince. He dreaded going home to Narcissa and trying to explain his absence. He knew she wouldn't search too hard for him, since she was more discreet than that, but she wouldn't let it go without a pretty damn good excuse.

"Let's go through this chronologically. I got the mirror-call from Harry asking about… well, you remember," He finished quickly, a blush rising high on his cheeks as he scribbled on the paper.

"And you thought you heard Draco laughing."

"Yes, that. I was so sure, too. You two sound so alike when you laugh." Sirius murmured, scribbling some more.

"And then I got a fire-call from Sev, telling me about Draco's missed classes. If it was the same day, it would match up… Did Harry call you in the middle of the day?"

Sirius furrowed his brow and pursed his lips slightly as he concentrated. "It was late enough in the day for me to ignore it for the most part, but if I'm thinking about it, it probably was earlier… oh, hell, I don't know. I just wasn't paying attention at the time."

"Well, that's an insignificant detail. Let's focus on what we _do_ know." Lucius stifled a yawn and resisted the urge to curl up like a cat. "Neither of us has spoken to either of them in the past few weeks face-to-face since that mirror fiasco. I scolded Draco for missing his classes in a letter, and his reply was perfectly formal. He apologized, but was rather vague about where he had been, which, if he was with Pot- _Harry_, would make perfect sense."

"Yes, of course. Are we still of the opinion that Dobby told them about us?" Sirius asked.

Lucius nodded slowly. "It's the only thing that makes sense. None of my acquaintances would have had the gall to tell him, and hardly any of yours knew in the first place."

"I just wish we could be sure," Sirius muttered. "I hate all these what-ifs and maybes."

Lucius was quiet, and Sirius glanced at him sideways. "I know that look. What are you thinking?"

"Well… I don't know if this will do anything. After all, He and I didn't exactly part on good terms…"

"You're going to _call him?_" Sirius yelped, his eyes doing wide.

"It can't hurt to try, can it?" Lucius murmured dryly. "And you want answers, don't you?"

There was a hard pit of anxiety in the pit of Lucius' stomach. The last time he'd seen Dobby was vividly replaying in his mind: Dobby's fearful expression as Lucius strode to Dumbledore's office, Harry Potter's reek and state of disarray, not to mention the determination and courage that had radiated from him. And then Lucius had attacked, and Dobby had sent him flying down the stairs…

"You don't have to," Sirius said, snapping Lucius out of his stupor. His dark-haired companion had a worried look on his face, and Lucius wondered what his own looked like in that moment.

"No," he said slowly, steeling his resolve. "I'll do it. Just keep a shield charm at the ready in case he's not feeling particularly friendly."

"Right."

Lucius took a deep breath, and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he called softly, "Dobby, if you can hear me, I would be very grateful if you would come here for a moment. Please."

There was a moment of silence- both of them held their breath.

_Crack!_

Dobby stood on the rug, quavering slightly as he lifted his chin slightly and took in his surroundings. He seemed ready to answer Lucius' call indignantly, but he faltered as he saw the unlikely pair on the bed. "M-master Malfoy- Master Sirius-?"

"Just Lucius is fine," He said with forced calm. At his side, Sirius beamed at the elf.

"How've you been, Dobby?"

The bobble on the top of Dobby's hat shivered with excitement. "Oh, Dobby has been very well, thank you, Master-"

"Just Sirius, Dobby," Sirius chided him.

"If you wish it," Dobby squeaked happily. His gaze flicked to Lucius, and his grin seemed to lose some of its brilliance.

"I hope we aren't bothering you," Lucius rumbled uncertainly. Dobby shrugged awkwardly under his bunches of sweaters and looked up shyly.

"No trouble at all, Ma- Lucius."

"We just had a question or two about our boys, Draco and Harry."

At the mention of the names, Lucius could see the subtle wariness in Dobby's eyes and the furtive way that he toed the carpet. "What is it that sirs are wanting to know about Masters Potter and Malfoy?"

Sirius and Lucius exchanged a quick glance before Sirius asked, "We wondered if you… told them anything. About us, I mean. And if you did, it's perfectly alright!" He added hurriedly as a nervous expression flitted across Dobby's small face. "We just need to know."

Dobby nibbled at his lower lip with a worried look in his eye. "If… if Dobby is being honest, sirs, he might have let something slip. About a month ago, if Dobby is remembering correctly."

Lucius sighed slightly as Sirius nodded beside him, saying "Thank you, Dobby. We do appreciate it."

Lucius was silent, rubbing at the stubble accumulating on his jaw, lost in thought. As Dobby prepared to go, though, he spoke up abruptly. "Why were they together? Why did you tell them?"

Dobby's eyes went even wider than was normal, and he seemed to choke on his words before spitting out, "It is being a secret, Master Malfoy, and Dobby cannot tell!"

Before either of the wizards could utter another word, Dobby was gone with another _Crack!_

There was silence in his wake.

"A… secret?" Sirius said slowly, staring straight ahead.

"So it would seem," Lucius murmured, staring at the spot on the carpet that Dobby had previously occupied with an odd look on his face.

"You realize that whatever it is, Dumbledore knows, don't you?"

"Yes."

Sirius turned to look at Lucius' profile. "Are you going to go talk to Dumbledore about it?"

"Not now."

The Gryffindor sighed unhappily. "Alright, you need to elaborate. You have that weird look on your face that either means you're going to get violent someone or you're really craving a sandwich."

"Well, it has been a while since I've eaten…" Lucius muttered, casting a half-hearted look at Sirius. "Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt anyone. I just have a strange feeling about this whole thing…. And Dumbledore isn't helping matters be keeping us in the dark," he grumbled slightly before sitting up and getting out of the bed.

"Where are you going?" Sirius bolted upright, looking at Lucius worriedly.

"I plan on getting in a bar fight, then wrestling a hippogriff with one hand tied behind my back," Lucius deadpanned. He smiled slightly at Sirius' expression and had opened his mouth to continue before there was an outrageous clangor from the floor above. Lucius' head jerked to look up, and an alarmed expression crossed his face. "What in the name of Merlin was _that?_"

"A hippogriff."

Lucius was regarding Sirius suspiciously when there was a bang from downstairs as the front door slammed shut.

"Sirius? Dumbledore? Anyone home?"

Lucius paled substantially and made a break for the dying fire. "I'll send you a letter later on in the week. You remember the code?"

"Yes, yes, now get out of here!" Sirius hissed. There was a sound of footsteps from the stairs. "Just a second, Remus!"

Lucius grabbed a fistful of powder and flung it at the fire, hissing, "Malfoy Manor!"

Nothing happened.

The footsteps drew closer, and Lucius and Sirius exchanged panicked looks. "Hogwarts! Go to Hogwarts!"

"Dumbledore's study!" Lucius gasped out and practically wept in relief when the flames turned green. The last thing he heard from the room behind him was the creak of an opening door.

* * *

><p>Dumbledore rubbed his brow thoughtfully as he looked at the two young men sitting before him. "I'm asking you boys to do this as a favor to me. Although laughter is certainly in short supply in these days, your store is beginning to draw the wrong kind of attention. I am worrying that if you keep up your blatant campaign against Voldemort-" the twins shivered slightly, "-you will end up being hurt in some form or another."<p>

"But Dumbledore," Fred interjected, "the store isn't that obvious, and we're always careful with our protective charms! I mean, if we were to continue running things this way, it's not as though Death Eaters would start barging in and-"

There was a sudden roar from the fireplace as the flames turned the color of limes and spat out one Lucius Malfoy in a cloud of soot which settled on the carpet in front of the hearth.

Fred and George were shocked into silence, and could only watch as Lucius picked himself up, dusted himself off and nodded to Dumbledore. "Wonderful to see you, Headmaster, and sorry about your rug. Send me a bill for the cleaning."

And with a nod, he strode towards the door to the office and left in a swirl of black robes.

George's voice returned first. "Was… was that…?"

Dumbledore sighed deeply. "I'll need you two to keep that to yourselves."

* * *

><p>Remus opened the door, his eyes scoping out the room. He was sure he had heard voices, but there was no one in the room except for Sirius, who was propped up against a few pillows in bed. His eyes were a little wild.<p>

"Remus!" Sirius's smile was crooked. "Dumbledore told me you were my savior last night."

Lupin smiled slightly and came in, giving the room another cursory glance. "I don't know if I would say _savior_, but I'm certainly glad I got here when I did. When did Dumbledore leave, exactly?"

"You missed him by about a half-hour," Sirius told him ruefully. "I'm much better though. It's not as though he abandoned me."

"I'm sure," Remus said, sitting gingerly at the foot of Sirius' bed. "Listen, Sirius… were you talking with Dumbledore last night? Before he caught me… or rather, before…?"

He trailed off, the blank expression on Sirius' face answering for him. "Right. Well, don't fret about it, I'm sure it was just some fancy spellwork."

"Probably," Sirius said, his grin resurfacing. Remus smiled back, a niggling doubt making itself known again in the back of his mind.

"Have you any idea why you were ill?" Lupin asked, watching Sirius slowly. His friend's neutral reaction and subsequent (vague) answers were dissatisfactory at best. Remus nodded and half-listened, his mind racing. Sirius was keeping something from him, and while it wasn't in Lupin's nature to pry, it frustrated him that Sirius seemed to have no intention of sharing it.

But he would let it go.

For now, anyway.

* * *

><p>"Are you going to tell me where we're headed, or not?" Harry asked through gritted teeth.<p>

"Nope!" Draco sang, pulling Harry up a deserted flight of stairs and around a sharp bend. Harry supposed that this was what a ragdoll felt like.

Thankfully, it was only a few moments later when Draco screeched to a stop in front of a familiar patch of hallway. "Lovely." He furrowed his brow, focusing intently on the door.

"The Room of Requirement again? Are you sure that it's still…" Harry turned his heads sharply as a burst of chatter echoed from down the hall. "Draco, hurry."

"I can't rush this, love, just sit tight."

Footsteps clattered around the corner just as the door's handle materialized, and Draco ushered Harry through. He thought he heard an exclamation of surprise just as the door snapped shut, but the silence in the large room was absolute. Harry let out a relieved breath when the doorknob didn't immediately turn and he glanced around the room with interest as Draco peeled off his sodden school robes. It was a sauna of sorts, lit with hundreds of white jasmine tea candles. The air was thick with moisture and incense, smoke mixing with the steam. There was a large pool of what looked like black volcanic rock which was rougher and jagged at the edges, where the candles clustered, but sloped smoothly into the tranquil pool of hot water. At the far edge the rock formed a seat of sorts before arcing up steeply to melt into the opposite wall. The atmosphere was decidedly peaceful, and Harry relaxed as the warmth seeped slowly into his body.

"Nicely done," He complemented, turning back to Draco. His mouth went slightly dry- Draco had managed to take off his shirt and tie in the moment that Harry had taken to admire their surroundings, and he'd never looked better. He was slim, but stronger and taller than Harry, something that Harry greatly appreciated.

"Thanks," Draco responded, not noticing Harry's appraisal. "I thought it would help warm us up. But if you don't get out of your wet clothes, it won't do you much good."

He stated it innocently enough, but something about the set of Draco's mouth made Harry suspect that he was fully aware of what he had just said.

"Here," Draco offered, stepping closer. "Let me help you."

Harry met Draco's gaze steadily as the blonde began undoing the top button of Harry's outer robes. There were only a few of them, and soon Draco was pushing the garment over Harry's shoulders and moving on to the plain white shirt beneath. Harry did his best not to blush, but Draco was smiling slightly as he moved further down.

"Shoes off, now. You can't expect me to do this on my own, can you?"

Harry toed off his shoes, putting a hand on Draco's bare shoulder to steady himself. He gasped and lurched in surprise as Draco skipped to Harry's belt without taking the shirt off the rest of the way. "Isn't that cheating?"

"Not at all. And even if it was, I don't think you mind terribly," Draco smirked as he slid the belt out of the loops quickly and moved on to the button on Harry's trousers as Harry shrugged off his shirt. His fingers played with the zipper briefly before Harry stepped away.

"You'll have to get rid of your own clothes before you can even _think_ about taking mine off," Harry informed him slyly. His face was red, but he was determined to play Draco's game to the fullest. His hands went to his zipper, undoing it slowly as Draco watched hungrily. He was hard, but he wasn't overly shy about it- if the bulge in Draco's pants was anything to go by, it was a shared state.

"As you wish, Harry." Draco undid his belt, his eyes never leaving Harry's lazily moving hands. Harry was taking his time on purpose, but as an idea struck him, he quickened his pace, pushing his underwear and his trousers down with one smooth gesture. He rid himself quickly of his socks and then turned his back on Draco and began to walk into the pool.

The water was brutal on his still-frozen toes, but Draco's burning gaze on his body was more than enough to keep him going. There was a sound of crumpling fabric and a pair of _thunks_ as Draco rid himself of his shoes and pants.

The water was up to Harry's thighs when an almighty cluster of splashes came from behind him, culminating when Draco spun him around and claimed Harry's mouth hungrily. Harry shivered at the force, feeling his knees weaken slightly as Draco's hands slipped down to his hips. He clutched Draco's shoulders, opening his mouth wider and sliding his tongue against Draco's with a moan.

Draco's hands wandered with a purpose, sliding down to Harry's thighs before roving back up, leaving trails of warmth in their wake. Harry pressed closer with a gasp as Draco bit his lower lip and dug his fingers into Harry's hips.

He barely noticed as the blonde led them into slightly deeper water until the wall met Harry's back. Draco closed the remaining distance between them and Harry arched as Draco's cock brushed his. Harry ground against him, wrapping his arms more firmly around Draco's shoulders and hooking one leg around Draco's hips for better leverage.

Harry turned his head to one side and gasped for air, his head spinning as Draco planted a line of heated kisses along Harry's jaw. Upon reaching Harry's neck, he whispered between licks and bites, "I-" Draco tugged at Harry's earlobe with his teeth, eliciting a gasp, "-love-" he licked a fiery stripe along the side of Harry's throat "–you."

"I love you, too," Harry murmured, and Draco shivered against him, pressing impossibly close and drawing a whimper from Harry.

"Say it again." He whispered.

"I love you," Harry whispered, and Draco turned Harry's head and kissed him intensely, making Harry's already-scarce breath catch in his throat. He threaded one hand in Draco's hair, gripping fiercely and reveling in the surge of emotion in his chest.

Draco's hands were everywhere, on his hips, his cheek, his sides, and then – _finally _– slipping down, grazing his erection and finding Harry's entrance. Harry broke the kiss for a split second, sharing air with Draco as he gasped out, "L-lube?"

"Room of Requirement, remember? I've got it," Draco reminded him, his breathing harsh as he licked Harry's lower lip and kissed him furiously. Harry spread his legs, sliding up the smooth rock wall with Draco's assistance to give Draco a better angle. He gasped at the first penetration, pressing his forehead firmly against Draco's as the blonde's other hand gripped his hip tightly, his thumb moving in soothing circles. "Breathe, Harry," Draco murmured, their lips brushing gently. He added another finger, and Harry clutched at the back of Draco's neck as the feeling washed over him. No matter how many times they did this, the first few moments of penetration were always attention-getting.

The water lapped at Harry's waist as Draco scissored his fingers, grazing Harry's prostate and drawing a long, shaky gasp from the Gryffindor. Draco added a third finger, drowning Harry's whine in another kiss.

Their breathing was harsh, in synch as Harry lifted himself further and braced himself against Draco's shoulders as Draco forced the last of the lube from a thin, clear tube and slicked his cock. Harry struggled to catch his breath, his gaze flickering from Draco's face to where his hand moved purposefully over his erection.

Finally, Draco gripped Harry's hips and guided Harry downwards. Harry tossed his head back as the head of Draco's cock breached him, stretching him wide and making him gasp before he slid down the rest of the shaft, taking all of it in.

Draco's hands were bruising Harry's hips again as he struggled to remain still, and Harry's fingers were no doubt doing equal damage to the tops of Draco's shoulders. Harry breathed deeply, quivering slightly as he adjusted.

He had barely thought of it when two loops of rock sprouted from the wall on either side of Harry's head. He smirked slightly as he reached up, wrapping one hand around each and grasping each tightly. With the help of Draco's hands on his hips, he moved up slowly, relishing in every sensation that washed over him, and dropped quickly, sheathing Draco all at once and drawing sharp groans from them both.

It only took a few moments for the pair to establish a rhythm, and only a few moments more for Draco to find Harry's prostate. Harry arched his back as Draco's cock massaged the sweet spot, making Harry's thighs tremble around Draco's hips and his inner muscles contract.

Harry slowly unraveled as they sped up gradually, and he began to let out soft moans on each downward thrust. His erection ached, the slight friction against Draco's abdomen not enough to bring him over the edge, even when combined with the sensation of Draco's cock moving within him, striking his prostate on every thrust.

Harry leaned his head down, finding Draco's lips with a moan. It was only a moment before Draco broke away, whispering, "Hold on to me."

He did as instructed, letting go of the rock handles and wrapping his arms around Draco's shoulders as he was carried away from the wall, Draco's cock buried inside him making Harry tighten his legs around Draco's hips. Draco sat hurriedly on the rock bench carved into the black stone, Harry in his lap. They wasted no time in picking up where they left off- Draco rolled his hips experimentally, making Harry gasp and clutch harder at his shoulders as the blonde lifted Harry by his abused hips and set a rapid pace. It wasn't long before Harry began to lift himself up on his knees and meet the thrusts halfway, seeing stars and gasping for air.

Then, at last, one of Draco's thrusts hit his prostate dead-on, sending bolts of pleasure straight to Harry's cock and sending him over the edge. His inner muscles clenched Draco's cock as his orgasm swept over him, leaving him weakly draped across Draco's chest as the Slytherin followed immediately after.

"I love you," Harry murmured after a moment, his head nestled in the crook of Draco's shoulder.

"I love you, too," Draco whispered. Harry could hear the smile in his voice, and he grinned, pressing his face into Draco's smooth skin and floating in the warmth of the afterglow- and the declaration.

* * *

><p>Lucius Apparated onto his doorstep, brushing the last of the soot from the hem of his robes and smoothing his hair. With a sigh of anxiety, he let himself in and strode through the entrance hall, dreading what was to come.<p>

He didn't have to wait long.

Narcissa was seated in the first parlor, a book in her lap. Her ankles were crossed primly and her posture was precise, apart from her downturned head. Without looking up, she called softly, "And just where exactly have you been for the past day, Lucius?"

* * *

><p>Mmm... Parts of this were so much FUN to write! I wasn't sure if some parts of if flowed very well, though, so let me know if anything in particular jumped out at you guys.<p>

Thank you SO MUCH for reading, and I hope you have something to review about- if not, it's okay. My muse will wither away to a shell of her former self, but I'm sure it'll be fine...

Anyway, thanks again, and I'll update as soon as I can!


	6. Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered

**I know, I suck. A big thank-you to everyone who waited patiently (or impatiently) for this chapter!**

**Warning: Unfortunately, none for this one. But just wait until next time~ **

**Disclaimer: Um. I think we all get the inherent point of a "disclaimer"... Fine, i'll say it anyway: NOT MINE. There! Are you happy now?**

* * *

><p>Severus Snape paced the hall outside Dumbledore's study. He'd been there twenty minutes already, and though he had immediately attempted to go up, the eagle that guarded the door had snapped that the Headmaster was occupied. The infernal bird did not know when he would be available, leading Snape to wait excessively. He couldn't stop moving, couldn't stop thinking about what he'd heard. Draco and the Potter boy- he'd never seen it coming. He reckoned that no one had, and that no one could see it even now. Who knew how long it had been going on right under his nose…<p>

"Oof!" He grunted as he turned sharply to pace across the hall again and ran smack into a student. "Watch where you're going!" he barked, stepping back and dusting himself off. It took him a moment to glance up and see who it was.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Longbottom," He growled, his lip curled as he looked at the quivering, plump boy in front of him. "Now get going."

The boy hunched slightly, but didn't show any signs of leaving.

"Well? You've been dismissed, boy." Snape felt jittery enough already, and this impudent sixth-year was making him even more nervous.

"…"

"What was that?" Snape snapped.

"I can't, S-Sir… I need to see the Headmaster." The boy raised his chin a bit, his eyes defensive under all of that fear.

"Then come back later. I have something pressing to discuss with Professor Dumbledore."

The boy looked troubled for a moment, as though he was actually considering arguing with the professor, but before he could get a word out the stone stairwell swung into view with a grating sound. Its passengers hopped down with large grins in place.

"Neville! Good to see you, mate. You should stop by the store soon- Gryffindors get five percent off!" The Weasley twins beamed for a moment more before turning to Snape. One of them said, "Dumbledore would like to see you both."

Snape bristled at the idea. "But this isn't information suited for-"

The other twin raised his hands in a placating manner. "Just the messengers… _Professor._"

With that, the pair of them swept away, and within seconds laughter was ringing down the halls. Snape resisted the overpowering urge to assign them a week's detention for their insolence. "Let's go, Longbottom. I pray Dumbledore knows what he's doing," he added under his breath.

If possible, Neville went even paler as he crowded onto the top step of the staircase alongside Snape. The two of them were terribly silent as the stairs began to ascend. Their shoulders brushed slightly, and Snape didn't think he could _be_ any tenser than he was in that moment.

_Dumbledore had better know what he's doing._

* * *

><p>The ride seemed to last forever. Sweat was trickling from under Neville's hairline as the staircase crept upwards, and he was sure he would keel over form the stress of being so close to his most feared professor. And a Death Eater, if he wasn't mistaken. Were it anyone else, and Neville did mean <em>anyone else<em>, he might've tried to make insipid conversation about the weather or how bad the Cannons were doing this season. He suspected that if he so much a took a breath with which to speak, Snape would hex his mouth shut.

He let out a palpable sigh of relief as the smooth wooden door to Dumbledore's study slid into view, only to feel a blinding surge of panic as he remembered what he had come to discuss with Dumbledore. As if talking about it wasn't horrible enough, he now had to discuss it with the Headmaster with _Snape_ present? Wouldn't the Professor run to tell the Death Eaters right away?

A trickle of sweat made its way down Neville's spine as Snape leaned forward, his shoulder brushing roughly against Neville's as the slightly taller man opened the door and entered.

Neville followed quickly, not wanting to be left outside for fear of having to go back down and wait. But as soon as he heard the stairway begin its descent, he felt like an utter fool. It would have been ideal for him to go back down and wait for Snape to take care of his business with the headmaster and leave so that Neville could talk to Dumbledore alone. It was too late to go back, what with Dumbledore's patient gaze and Snape's infuriated one both resting on him.

His face flushed. "G-Good morning, Headmaster."

"And a good morning to you, Neville." Dumbledore sat back in his chair, evaluating them both. "I believe that we have something to discuss, gentlemen. You would both have a seat?"

Neville hurried over to the nearest chair, but Snape didn't move. "Dumbledore," He said through gritted teeth. "I do not think that you know what-"

"When have I ever led you astray, Professor Snape? Please, sit down so that we may begin." Dumbledore's tone was light, but his eyes were not to be argued with. Snape's lips were white with frustration as he sat in the other chair that faced Dumbledore's desk.

"Now, then!" Dumbledore folded his hands in his lap, smiling a little at the sulking professor and the sinking student. "I realize that this may be a bit strange for both of you, but I ask you to bear with me for a bit. Believe it or not, the two of you have come to me for the same reason."

Neville recoiled in surprise, and Snape scoffed. "Forgive me, headmaster, but how could you possibly know-?"

"If you don't believe me, Severus, then just ask Neville."

Neville went rigid as the potions master turned towards him with a suspicious look in his eye. "Very well. Longbottom, why is it that you have come to see the headmaster this morning?"

Neville gulped. Sure, Harry had said that Dumbledore knew, but Neville sincerely doubted that the couple would be willing to let Professor Snape in on their secret. He looked at Dumbledore for help, but the headmaster only nodded knowingly. "Go on, Neville. It's all right."

Despite the assurance, Neville couldn't meet the gaze of either professor as he mumbled, "I came to talk about Harry and Draco."

Snape's chair protested loudly as he sat bolt upright, gripping the armrests brutally. "What- how did-?" His eyes alighted on Dumbledore. "How on earth did you _know?_"

Neville watched in utter confusion as Snape stammered at the headmaster. He bit his lip. How had Snape found out? From what he had gleaned from Harry, little to no people were in the know about Harry and Draco's relationship.

"Calm down, Severus."

"Was someone following me? Is that how you found out?"

"You are being unreasonable and rude, and we will discuss this later. For the moment, we should really discuss the situation with Harry and Draco."

"You mean that they're apparently in love?" Snape grumbled. "I still have no idea how _that_ happened."

Dumbledore seemed to be withholding a smile. "It's a rather long story. The reason we are talking about it together is because I believe that we can all work together. After all, each of us has the boys' best interests at heart."

Neville sent Snape a sideways glance, his instinctual mistrust of the potions master warring with his reliance on Dumbledore.

"Yes, even Professor Snape," Dumbledore addressed Neville briefly, earning a scathing look from the Potions Master. "Although the school is undoubtedly the safest place in Britain at the present, there is the matter of protecting them from the children of Death Eaters, as well as from Voldemort himself-" Severus and Neville flinched in unison. "-outside of the school's walls. It is important that no one knows, even those that we would trust with our lives, because of the complex nature of the situation and the wide range of people who are affected by it.

"However, it has become apparent to me that the boys are not entirely able to fend for themselves. They are at times too enraptured by one another to think clearly in terms of safety measures and basic precautions to keep from being found out. Therefore, I need help from the two of you."

Snape, who had been looking vaguely green since Dumbledore had mentioned the word "enraptured", chose this moment to pipe up. "And how exactly do you want us to help?"

"I'm getting to that part. Neville, as one of Harry's dorm mates, you have the ability to keep an eye on him at all times. I ask that you ensure that he is being properly cautious in terms of keeping his relationship a secret."

"You want me to lie for him." Neville stated flatly.

"No. I want you to dissuade him from seeing Draco as often as possible, and encourage them so see each other in the room that I have provided them with whenever it cannot be avoided. The entrance is in your dormitory, so he may need your help every now and then."

Neville let out a heavy breath. "Headmaster, why can't Ron and Hermione do this? They're Harry's best mates, and I think they would be better suited for it."

"Better suited? Perhaps. However, I am operating under the assumption that Harry is not entirely prepared to share the news of his choice of companion quite yet. Even if this was not the case, Ron and Hermione are obvious targets of Voldemort and his followers. The less they know about the affair, the better."

Shaking his head, Neville thought hard about Dumbledore's words. They sounded like total shit on every possible level of logic but one. And on the level where they made a strange kind of sense…

He looked up into Dumbledore's expectant eyes. "Fine. I'll do what I can. Just tell Ron and Hermione as soon Harry allows it, because keeping them in the dark will only hurt us in the long run."

"It's not us I worry about," Dumbledore murmured. The air in the room suddenly seemed too thick to breathe. It was a moment before the Headmaster straightened and looked at Neville with newfound purpose. "I appreciate your help, Neville. You have my gratitude."

He turned to Snape. "And you, Severus, are also to be useful in this. The Slytherins trust you above all others in this school these days, and no one will think anything of it if you say Draco is with you, or something similar, they will believe you without hesitation."

"Dumbledore, you honestly expect me to… to _cover_ for my sixteen-year-old Godson just because he's having a fling with _Potter?_ Do you have any idea what could-"

"Of course I do." Dumbledore's voice was steely and impossibly sharp as he interjected. Snape's jaws snapped shut. "Were I not certain that it were more than a _fling_, I would not be going to such measures to ensure the boys' protection. You of all people should know that the consequences of this relationship's disclosure are not limited to Harry and Draco. Even if they were, I would expect better of you." Snape recoiled as though slapped, his eyes widening before he cast his gaze on the carpet. Dumbledore continued in a gentler tone. "I understand that _risky_ is a bit of an understatement when it comes to what we are dealing with, but that is precisely the reason that I have asked the two of you to work on this. After all, from what I hear, no one would expect Neville Longbottom and Professor Snape to be working together on anything, much less some sort of covert operation."

Neville's head snapped up. "Working- _together-?_"

Snape seemed to be having a fit of sorts. "I don't remember you saying-"

"You two will work separately most of the time, as that is what you will be best at. However, there will undoubtedly be instances in which the evidence will contradict whatever story either one of you has concocted. When this occurs, Severus will add his testimony, or Neville will offer his. Someone may doubt one or the other of your words, but never both."

Severus was nodding slowly as Neville had a small panic attack. The idea of seeing Snape regularly outside of the ordinary curriculum was terrifying in and of itself, but colluding with him? Asking him for help backing some ill-fated excuse? Or perhaps the worst- being asked to help in one of Snape's failed cover-ups.

"Now, Neville, you and Professor Snape will have plenty of time later on to go over strategies and the like, but for now I need a moment alone with him."

Neville nodded numbly, grateful to be rid of the suddenly-too-small office and its expectant inhabitants, and stood to leave.

"You are, of course, free to discuss this with Harry and Draco," Dumbledore said lightly, obviously ignoring the venomous look that Severus aimed at the pair of them.

As Neville stepped onto the stone, he could just barely hear Professor Snape's voice hissing angrily at the Headmaster, and then the chuckling reply before the grinding stone drowned out the words.

* * *

><p>"You're honestly the most frustrating man I've ever encountered," Snape snarled. Dumbledore smiled placidly from behind his half-moon spectacles, evaluating Severus with clever eyes.<p>

"I do not doubt it, Severus. However, we can discuss my idiosyncrasies any time, whereas the main reason you approached me has more of an expiration date."

Snape huffed, slouching slightly in his chair, but did not push the matter. Much. "Don't think we're done discussing this, Dumbledore. Pairing me with _Longbottom_ of all people on this suicidal mission…"

"I have the utmost confidence in you," Dumbledore rumbled cheerfully.

"Yes, yes, I'm well aware of that… Sometimes I wish you had a bit less." Snape raised his eyes to meet Dumbledore's. "In the meantime, we should discuss what this will mean for the Malfoy family. Now that Draco has changed sides, Lucius finally has an excuse to-"

"Lucius has already changed sides."

Severus blinked once. Twice. "I beg your pardon?"

"Lucius has already approached me, and I have deemed his mind clear and his heart pure. Pure enough, anyway." Dumbledore spoke carefully and watched Severus struggle to comprehend.

"I don't… But… how did he find out about Draco?" He stammered.

"He didn't."

Snape gaped. "You mean he doesn't-?"

"No, he is not aware that his son is currently romantically involved with Harry Potter. He may suspect it, of course, because Lucius has always been a clever man, but he does not know for certain. And until the matter with Sirius has been taken care of, it will need to stay that way."

Severus was looking rather faint, his ghostly pallor emphasized by his lank black hair. "Lucius doesn't _know?_ And you want me to _keep this from him?_ For Merlin's sake, Dumbledore, I am Draco's Godfather! Even if I wasn't, I would still have responsibilities about telling my best friend that his only son is- is-"

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, and Severus flushed to the roots of his hair, a stark contrast to his previous expression. "Oh, don't give me that look, Dumbledore, you know as well as I do that nobody could have _possibly _seen this coming. I know that we need to keep this under wraps, but not telling _Lucius_… But hold on, why did Luciuscome to you in the first place? Did the Dark Lord finally tell him what's in store for Draco?"

Dumbledore's expression darkened abruptly. "No. He knows nothing of that as far as I can tell, but I am confident that it would only reinforce his change in loyalty."

"You didn't answer my question."

"He will tell you when he's ready, Severus. It is a rather sudden and consequential decision that he has made, and needs to be handled similarly to our situation here, with Harry and Draco."

Snape frowned, looking off to one side with an expression that nearly resembled petulance. "This is mad, Dumbledore. You honestly expect me to keep straight who knows what around here?"

"Yes." Dumbledore beamed.

Severus sulked a moment longer before suddenly standing. "Right. Well, if you'll excuse me, Headmaster, I believe I need to speak with a couple of my students about a rather pressing matter."

"Naturally, Severus. Do not worry for Lucius and Draco any more than usual- I am watching out for them. Additionally," he reached for a stack of papers and adjusted his glasses with a nonchalance that few were able to master, "I would be grateful if you did not traumatize Harry any more than necessary."

"I'm not making any promises," Snape grumbled, stepping onto the topmost stair and waiting to be carried down.

Dumbledore smiled to himself once the door closed behind the Potions Master. He didn't envy the position that Harry would be in shortly.

* * *

><p>Harry leaned against the stone bench submerged in the hot water, watching Draco dress with a lazy, content half-smile. "I still don't see why you have to go dashing off," he murmured. "It feels like all we ever do is say goodbye."<p>

"All we ever do?" Draco asked wryly, one eyebrow raised as he pulled his belt through the loops.

The corners of Harry's mouth twitched, and he flushed slightly. "You know what I mean. I can't wait another week before everyone leaves. I hate sneaking, I hate lying, I hate not being able to stare at you as much as I bloody want to…" he illustrated this by watching hungrily as Draco buttoned up his shirt.

"We'll have a full week to ourselves once everyone else goes on holiday," Draco reminded tartly. "Now quit trying to get me back into the water. People are going to be wondering where we've gone, and the last thing we need is another series of batty excuses that no one will believe." He sighed, starting to knot his tie while looking determinedly away from Harry. "We should try to keep our distance over the next week, maybe meeting once in the room that Dumbledore gave us. But there will be no visits to the Room of Requirement, no brief interludes in random closets-"

"That was once!" Harry protested.

"-and no soulful looks across classrooms or the Great Hall. We've been getting sloppy, and we can't afford to keep that up."

Harry sank lower in the pool, thinking seriously. Although it would be awful ignoring Draco for a full week, it definitely made sense. "You're right, I suppose. Why do you get to be the rational one in this relationship?"

"Because you're too busy trying to get me into bed again." Draco teased.

"Am not! If anything, you're always trying to seduce _me._" At Draco's disbelieving snort, Harry continued. "It's true! You always have this _look_, like you can see straight through my clothes, and you always seem to have the upper hand, and... and…"

"Those don't seem like bad things to me," Draco purred, pulling on his spell-dried school jacket.

"And the voice!" Harry cried insistently, "With that bloody voice of yours, you could practically talk me into bed."

"Interesting. I'll keep that in mind." Draco smirked, and Harry suddenly found himself wondering how on earth he had been conned into admitting all of that. It had seemed perfectly logical at the time…

Draco spoke up again. "I'd best be off. Blaise can't tutor himself in Transfiguration, after all." He crooked a finger at Harry, who stood and waded over, shivering as the cooling air touched his skin. He reached for Draco, but the blond stepped back with a shake of his head. "Oh, no you don't- you're sopping, and I've just dried and heated all of these, and the last thing I need to do is figure out how to explain water stains in the shape of your hands to Blaise."

"Couldn't you just spell it dry again?" Harry groused, leaning forward.

"Bad for the fabric," Draco muttered before pressing a hand to Harry's cheek to guide him into the kiss. Harry's stomach swooped as Draco's lips moved languorously against his own, the gentle suction just chaste enough to be frustrating before Draco pulled away with a small, knowing smile. "I'll send a message if I need to talk, and you do the same." His eyes softened as he lingered close to Harry. "I love you."

Harry wondered if he would ever get used to hearing it. "I love you, too." He leaned in to steal another quick kiss before stepping back into the water. "Go on before I decide keep you here forever."

"I'll go before I can talk myself into doing just that," Draco made his way to the door, sending Harry a last smile before he was gone.

Harry slid back underwater with a sigh, playing the last few hours over and over in his mind. So much had happened- Ron confronting Draco outside the Great Hall, Neville catching Harry and Draco, Harry telling Draco that he loved him… All in the space of two hours, maybe less.

And Draco loved him back.

_Draco loved him back._

Just thinking about it made Harry warm from the inside out, and he found himself smiling like a loon as he straightened and picked up a towel to start drying off.

* * *

><p>Harry made his way to the Gryffindor Common Room, torn between hurrying and walking as slowly as possible. On the one hand, speeding up would lessen the amount of time he had to account for, if only by a little bit. On the other hand, slowing down would allow him more time to think of a plausible excuse to give to Ron and, perhaps more importantly, Hermione.<p>

He sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. Draco probably had no trouble with this- he likely gave his friends a vague, totally believable excuse and they bought it easily- for why should they doubt their Slytherin king?

It wasn't nearly as easy for him, lying to Ron and Hermione. He wasn't sure which of them he felt guiltier for disillusioning; Ron always accepted his reasons without questioning them, his trust in Harry masking any doubts that he would normally experience, while Hermione always seemed to look at him askance these days, whether he was fibbing or not.

Harry found himself at the portrait hole much sooner than he'd have liked. The Fat Lady eyed him wearily. "Password?"

"Harry!"

He turned sharply, trying to place the voice. It wasn't difficult- the only other person in the deserted hallway was running towards him intently. "Hello, Neville," Harry said as his friend came screeching to a halt beside him. Then, abruptly, his head jerked around to look at Neville again, and a grin sprang onto his face. "Oh, _Neville!_ Thank Merlin- I need your help!"

"But we… we…" Neville put his hands on his knees as he struggled to catch his breath. Harry bent over slightly to try to hear what he was trying to say. "we… need to talk. About…" he panted, looking to and fro surreptitiously. "About… you know what. I talked to… to Dumbledore. It's important."

Harry nodded, eyeing the Fat Lady, who seemed to be looking a bit overtly oblivious. "Right. Well, I need your help first. Can you tell Ron and Hermione that I went with you looking for Professor Flitwick or something? I've been AWOL for the past couple of hours."

Neville straightened, wiped his brow and looked at Harry, astonished. "You honestly expect Ron and Hermione to believe that the two of us just spent the last two hours wandering around the school looking for a professor? No, that's absurd. Just say I was helping you with the last Herbology lesson.

Harry frowned. "But what if Hermione expects me to know it? She will, you know.

"Then just tell her that you still don't get the bloody stuff and that you still need her help because I'm an awful tutor." He paused, looking at Harry out of the corner of his eye. "It's really fascinating stuff, though. You should really be paying more attention-"

"Neville," Harry interrupted, exasperated, "do you remember what I told you about how… _you-know-what_ started?" Neville's brow furrowed, and after a moment he blushed. "I thought so. Now do you see why I'm not so bloody keen on learning the ins and outs of Herbology?" Harry shook his head with a snort, turning back to the portrait hole. "Codswallop Muffins."

"Precisely," the Fat Lady muttered, eyeing the two boys without trying to hide her suspicion.

Harry went through the portrait hole first, and was immediately hailed by Hermione. "Harry! Where on earth have you been?"

Beside her in his usual seat, Ron sat up hurriedly from where he had been resting on the table, looking around as he wiped a trail of drool from his chin.

"Neville was going over some Herbology with me," Harry said, trying to act casual. As he had predicted, Ron shrugged and slumped back in his chair, looking sleepy as Hermione sent Harry a chary look.

"For last class?" She asked slowly.

"No, the one before," Neville piped up. Harry could see his hands trembling as he continued, "The one with the Alihotsy. I still can't believe that that barmy Hufflepuff ate one of the leaves. I mean, we all heard Professor Sprout say that they caused hysteria when ingested, right?"

"Yeah, mate. The bloke looked like a complete tosser, eh?" Ron stretched.

Hermione wasn't as easily distracted. "Do you understand it now, Harry?"

"Not a bit." As Harry laughed, he could practically _see_ Neville rolling his eyes at him.

Hermione still didn't seem satisfied, but she rarely did these days. "I see. Well, Ron and I were going to go over the material later on tonight if you think it would help?"

Ron suddenly seemed more awake. "Bloody hell, Hermione! Can't we just spend tonight visiting Hagrid, or walking by the lake, or something that does _not_ involve studying?"

Hermione looked annoyed. "Forgive me for trying to prepare you for our exams. In the future, I will simply look the other way when you two are floundering in your studies."

"He didn't mean it, Hermione," Harry said hastily, moving to sit in his usual seat and ignoring the look on Ron's face that said, _what do you mean, I didn't mean it?_ "We've all been working pretty hard, though. Maybe we can visit Hagrid this afternoon, you know, take a break from studying for a bit?"

Hermione pursed her lips. "Well, I suppose we could. But _only _if we study when we get back." She sent Ron a sharp glance, as though that last bit had been for his benefit alone.

As Ron straightened with a squawk ("What're you looking at me for?"), Neville shifted closer to where Harry sat. "I really need to talk to you," he muttered out of one side of his mouth.

"Not now," Harry hissed. With his eyes locked on Ron and Hermione, he didn't notice the panicky sheen to Neville's eyes.

"Harry, it's urgent- you don't understand-" Neville insisted, gripping the arm of Harry's chair with white knuckles.

"Not _now_," Harry repeated.

Neville opened his mouth to protest again, but before he could get a word out, there was a loud crash from the hall outside as the portrait swung away from the entrance and smacked into the wall of the hallway. Harry could hear the Fat Lady squalling outside in the sudden silence of the common room. He whirled around.

Snape's head and shoulders were poking through the entryway, and his glaring, beady black eyes were fixed on Harry. "Outside, Potter," he snarled. "_Now_." As an afterthought, he added, "You too, Longbottom."

Neville looked sick to his stomach, but didn't look the least bit surprised. "Come on, Harry."

Exchanging bewildered looks with Ron and Hermione, Harry followed Neville across the common room- feeling the eyes of every stunned Gryffindor tracking him –and climbed out of the portrait hole to stand before the professor. The greasy man had his arms folded and was wearing his scowl like a favorite sweater. As soon as both students were outside, he nudged them aside and closed the opening to the common room. The instant the Fat Lady saw them, her eyes bulged and her pudgy face went red with anger. "You! What Merlin's name do you think you're doing, slamming my portrait like that? You ought to be ashamed!"

Snape grabbed the boys' collars and hauled them down the hall, the echoes of the Fat Lady's bellows chasing them as they went. Harry felt more and more confused with every step they took- neither of his unlikely companions offered an explanation. They finally stopped in an alcove with a large stained-glass window overlooking the lake. Even though he'd done nothing wrong, Harry felt the acute desire to run.

"You are even more inept than I had previously assumed, Potter," Snape growled. "And that _is_ saying something."

Despite the situation, Harry bristled. "Why am I here, professor?"

Snape raised an eyebrow and looked down his hooked nose at the boy. "You mean Longbottom hasn't told you? He and I are going to be among the _lucky_ few who are allowed to babysit you and my Godson."

Harry blinked. He felt hot and cold all at once, and he wasn't sure if he was flushing or not. "Sorry?"

Neville butted in. "Dumbledore asked Professor Snape and me to help you and Draco avoid being caught. You haven't been doing a very good job of being subtle, apparently."

Harry leaned one hand against the wall, feeling dizzy and slightly ill as he looked askance at Snape. "And you two are obviously the masters of subtlety," he muttered. "How did _you _find out?" He addressed Snape.

"Let's just say that you and Draco should be more careful where you have shouting matches," Severus sneered. "But that's all said and done, Potter. We need to plan the future. You and Draco cannot risk seeing one another until the break begins. Because the two of you are staying, you'll be able to make up for any lost time then. I assume," he sighed, turning to Neville, "that you will be going home for the holidays?" At Neville's nod, he continued, "Then I will be solely responsible for the pair of you during this time."

"Excuse me," Harry interrupted, feeling more confused by the moment. "but responsible _how?_"

"Responsible in making sure that you two are apart as much as possible, and when it can't be avoided, you are being especially cautious so that you are not caught." Snape said this with a forced calm that gave Harry goosebumps.

Then a terrible thought occurred to him. "Have you… mentioned this to Mister Malfoy?"

"No," the professor said tartly. He had a sour look on his face not entirely unlike the one he got whenever he looked into Neville's cauldron. Only without the malicious tint.

Harry dropped the topic like a dragon's egg. "Does…. Well, have you… er… talked to Draco?"

"No. I am heading there, but the Gryffindor common room was en route, and I did not want to miss an opportunity to reinforce just how _unwanted _this situation is." After a few long seconds of glaring, he stepped back into the hallway. "I will assign the two of you detention in tomorrow's class. Don't worry about doing anything purposefully wrong- your natural proclivities for disaster will suffice, I assure you."

Harry sent a rude gesture at Snape's back, feeling well and truly doomed. His relationship with Draco was relying on Neville and Professor Snape to keep it aloft? They wouldn't last the week.

"Harry?" He glanced over at Neville, who was looking at him with wide eyes. "Are you alright?"

Harry was silent for a moment before tilting his head back with a groan. "Why didn't you _tell me?_"

* * *

><p>"Do you honestly expect me to believe," Narcissa restated, her voice deadly in its softness, "that you were at the Ministry for the last <em>day<em>, sorting out some mix-up with an alibi for Walden Macnair? Why didn't you owl, or send a floo message, or _something?_ You used to be such a good liar, Lucius."

"I still am." His back was to the wall of the main parlor as he watched Narcissa, who was still sitting in the chair that she had been waiting in when he had returned. "You know I would be much more convincing if I was lying, Narcissa. This, on the other hand, is so far-fetched that it can't be anything but the truth."

Narcissa was sculpture-like, evaluating him; her black eyes had never been more disconcerting. After several long, stressful moments, she lowered them with a sigh. "You're right. Of course you're right, Lucius- I'm sorry I doubted you. It's just the tensions with the Dark Lord, and the fresh attacks on muggles down in Winchester… these are dangerous times."

"I know. Don't apologize." Lucius' tone reflected nothing more than casual concern, a remarkable display of his control. His voice was perfect, his face was cool and calm, his posture and positioning impeccable. Aside from a small nervous twitch in his right forefinger, he was the quintessential Malfoy. He swept over to Narcissa's side, resting a hand on her shoulder for comfort and smiling slightly to ease the stress of the situation. "Don't mention the deal with Macnair to anyone- he's a bit touchy about it."

She nodded and smiled weakly, and Lucius returned the look, wondering to himself how long it would be before he was found out, and the Death Eaters began to hunt him down.

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you all for reading and reviewing! You guys are the best!<strong>

**As usual, feel free to give me any suggestions- should Narcissa try to seduce Harry? Should Voldemort sneak Ron a love potion? Should Neville and Snape fall madly in love? Just let me know. D**

**Sincerely,**

**Jester.**


	7. Right Place, Right Time

**I am a bad, bad person. Now that we've established that, let's move on!**

**Warnings: not really for this one.**

**Disclaimer: It's not mine. Yet. D**

**Go forth, my lovelies!**

* * *

><p><em>Monday<em>

Harry was slumped forward with his head in his hands, staring blankly ahead in the class room. He didn't dare look to his right- that was where Hermione sat between him and Ron, suspicion radiating from her like an overripe perfume. He didn't look left, either- that was where Draco was taking notes near the front, actually paying attention for once. Ahead was the safest bet.

His glazed eyes were aimed near the very front of the room, where Professor Flitwick was perched on his stack of books, chirping enthusiastically about that day's charm. "The trick is in the flourish at the end!" He squeaked, gesturing so emphatically that a few errant sparks flew from the tip of his wand. "Because the spell can be tweaked to fit other purposes, it is essential that the performer puts real _effort _into his or her casting! If you find yourself unable to muster the effort, or if you are not specific enough, your spell will revert to the basic mood spell. Now, before we begin, who can remind us the three primary variations of the Mood Spell?" Hermione's hand was up before he's even finished asking. "Hmm? Perhaps Mr. Malfoy?"

Harry perked up, glancing inadvertently towards Draco's seat as Hermione slumped with a resigned sigh. The blonde head in front of him didn't even flinch as he replied, "The spell can be used to redistribute the emotions of a small group of people, maximize a person's current sentiments, or reverse the effects of another mood spell."

Harry sank lower in his chair, trying desperately to avoid the urge to go and curl up in Draco's lap.

"Very good! And how are these different effects brought out-?" Then, with a sigh- "Yes, Miss Granger?"

Sitting straighter, Hermione piped up proudly, "In addition to the necessary intent of the caster, there is a suffix added to the spell itself."

Flitwick nodded, exasperation and pride warring on his face. "Precisely. All right, I believe you are all ready to practice. Alternate between the three incantations, and don't forget to flourish!"

There was a cacophonous scraping of chairs and sudden voices as the students stood and either began practicing immediately or- the more popular option- began muttering to the people closest to them about the spell. Ron leaned over Hermione, beaming at Harry. "Alright, mate, make me happy."

"That's one of the more complex versions," Hermione scoffed. "We should start out with the basic spell." Without waiting for the boys' consent, she lifted her wand. "_Sententia discretor!_"

Her want emitted a burst of golden-yellow mist shot through with ribbon-like veins of pale green and the occasional pink. The burst of color hung in the air for a moment, glittering slightly. Hermione was already checking her notes before it had drifted away, leaving a fine coating of the magical dust on the desk and the pages of notes.

Hermione almost said something, but then her face colored and she set her shoulders abruptly. "Who's next?"

"Hold the Floo, Hermione, what did that mean?" Ron plucked the notes out of Hermione's hands before she could stop him, his russet brow furrowing as he painstakingly ignored Hermione's indignant squawks. "Yellow for good spirits- you _did_ just get the question right, I guess- light green means… er… energy?"

"Envy," Harry supplied as Hermione snatched back the page of notes, red in the face.

"The ink smudged," Ron muttered, frowning. Without warning, he suddenly snorted, a strange sort of revelation crossing his face. "You're peeved that Malfoy got that first question, aren't you?"

"No." Hermione said shortly, pushing her hair out of her face a bit too harshly. "Harry, it's your turn."

"Right. Here goes… _Sententia discretor!_"

Rather than the full-bloomed cloud that Hermione had summoned, Harry's wand gave a rather uncomfortable cough and spat out a thimbleful of watery-looking blue smoke.

"Again, Harry, and-"

"Don't forget to flourish, I _know_," Harry grumbled. Steadying his wrist, he cleared his throat and tried again. "_Sententia discretor!_"

It was still pathetic next to Hermione's, but it was better than he had been expecting. The fist-sized clump of vapor was a deep blue with striking violet and reddish-brown static running all through it in unpredictable bursts, lingering in the air for a moment before dissipating.

"Much better," Hermione nodded with a small, bemused smile.

Ron made a small sound of discontent as he peeked over Hermione's shoulder to look at the notes. "That can't be right…"

Before Harry could ask what Ron meant, Hermione intervened. "The important thing is that Harry managed it, which is more than you have done."

With a scowl and a funny look at Harry, Ron turned to face the table and mumbled the spell. It took three tries to get it to the size of Harry's. Each time he conjured it, the cloud turned a bit darker shade of grey, throbbing with multi-faceted rivulets of jade green, powdery pink, and burnt orange.

"Good, Ron," Hermione encouraged, but Ron didn't acknowledge her praise.

Her smile faltered, and she seemed to steady herself before raising her hand to summon Flitwick over.

Harry tuned out the question she posed as he glanced at his own notes. They were nowhere near as thorough as Hermione's, but he had written a small index of color meanings.

_Dark Grey: frustration, anger._

_Pale or Jade Green: envy/jealousy._

_Light pink: muted romantic feelings._

_Darker Orange: suspicion._

Harry frowned. He had written just above the list that the body of the manifestation would represent a person's primary emotion at the time, and any smaller bits of color would represent any underlying or less significant emotions. Harry could understand that Ron would be frustrated with the spell, but that didn't explain the jealousy or suspicion.

Then a terrible thought occurred to Harry. What if Hermione had figured out his relationship with Draco, and had shared the idea with Ron? But there had been no obvious indications…

On a whim, Harry glanced at the paper again, seeking his own colors.

_Dark Blue: depression or longing._

Reasonable enough, Harry thought to himself, stifling the urge to turn and check on Draco.

_Purple: love._

Harry swallowed and searched for the final underlying emotion.

_Darkest Red, or Red-Brown: Shame. _

He quickly schooled his features into something that hopefully did not reflect the feeling of sinking confusion in his stomach. Flitwick hurried towards where Seamus' cloud was raining fire as Hermione turned back towards Harry, retrieved her quill, and made a small note in the corner of the piece of parchment that she held. To Harry's surprise, she didn't say anything else to Ron or Harry about their clouds. "Right. Next we'll exchange emotions… why don't you try on me and Ron, Harry? And remember, _intent _is key."

"Er. Alright." Sending an anxious look at Ron, Harry raised his wand, checking the notes for the correct suffix. He mentally crossed his fingers and prayed that he wasn't about to turn them both into walruses or something equally horrendous by mistake. "_Sententia discretor augereto!_"

Something milky and vaporous sprang from the wand and wrapped itself around the two of them, seeming to draw colors from their palms and mix them up before vanishing in an instant. Ron reeled, holding his head for a moment before smiling and crossing his arms happily. "Interesting…"

"What is?"

Ron paused. "I'm not exactly sure..."

Between the pair of them, Hermione's expression had turned rather sulky. Her arms were also crossed over her chest, but not with any of Ron's sudden confidence or bravado. "So unfair," she muttered.

"What is?"

She hesitated, combing her fingers agitatedly through her hair as she scowled at nothing in particular. "I don't know."

Harry took a moment to marvel at the déjà vu before setting them right again.

* * *

><p><em>Tuesday<em>

Harry made his way to Snape's office slowly, confusion swirling around in his head. Ron had been acting almost hostile towards him throughout the past day, hardly speaking to him. He'd even gone so far as to laugh when Harry and Neville's cauldron had exploded in Monday's Potions class (Snape had, as he had warned, given them each a detention for Tuesday evening).

Harry didn't understand it. Ron had been acting perfectly normal and happy all through Sunday evening and most of Monday morning, but from lunch onward he had been acting totally different.

A new pang of fear struck him abruptly, and Harry almost skidded to a halt. What if Ron had somehow found out about Harry's relationship with Draco? That would be more than enough cause to be upset with him.

But wouldn't Ron openly confront Harry about something so unexpected and, from Ron's perspective, outlandish?

Dragging a hand through his hair, he sighed heavily as he approached the door to Snape's office. He prayed briefly that he wasn't going to be the first one to arrive before he knocked three times on the broad wooden door.

"Enter," Came Snape's bored, annoyed voice, and Harry did so with a grimace.

Although Harry had only been in the Potions Master's office a few times before, he recognized the depressing, eerie interior. The jars on the walls still held their slimy, unnatural-looking occupants at bay, and the shelves that weren't bowed beneath the weight of the hundreds of jars were bearing what looked like hundreds of leather-bound books. Not all of the titles on the spines appeared to be in English.

The professor was seated behind his rounded desk, writing something on a piece of parchment that was more than three feet long. Neville already sat in one of the two stiff wooden chairs. He looked as though he was sweating heavily, and his hands were knotted uneasily into fists. Upon Harry's entrance, he looked up gratefully.

"Potter," Snape muttered without looking up. "You certainly took your time."

"Sorry," Harry mumbled, sitting down in the other chair. He winced; the chair was even more uncomfortable than it looked, which was saying something.

"I'll be with you two in a moment." Snape seemed to be in no hurry to finish whatever was occupying him as the boys squirmed in the silence. Harry glanced around the room, struggling to distract himself while, at the same time, not looking too hard at the contents of the glass vials.

One thing did not escape his notice. There was no third chair. "Isn't Draco coming?"

Snape ignored him entirely. It wasn't until the he had dotted his last _i_ and crossed the last _t_ that he sat back and scrutinized the two Gryffindors. "Welcome to detention. This is obviously a ruse, and therefore we should not waste time pretending otherwise. Now, let us get started-"

"_Professor_, won't Draco be arriving later? Shouldn't we wait for him?" Harry held his breath. Seeing Draco from a distance was torture, plain and simple; he had barely even made eye contact with him during mealtimes or class, and it was beginning to drive Harry more than a bit mad.

Professor Snape, however, appeared to have other plans. He sneered at Harry, whose heart sank immediately.

"You ignorant boy. You really think no one would notice if I gave _Draco_ detention? Or even if I were to simply call him to my office tonight? I will fill him in myself, later on, _inconspicuously_." After another few moments of staring contemptuously at Harry, he snorted. "You can't manage a day without him, Potter? You should really work on that."

Harry flushed to his hairline and sank down in his chair as Snape went on. "The _situation_ up until now has not been dealt with appropriately. From now on, there will be definite rules about when the two of you will be permitted to see one another."

At this, Harry bristled. "We were managing just _fine_," he snapped. "Besides, this isn't what Dumbledore told you to do-"

"You were not present at the meeting, Potter, and even if you are receiving the details from Longbottom here, he was absent for the later portion of it. You _will_ follow my direction."

Harry folded his arms defiantly, hot anger welling up inside his chest. "Dumbledore is in charge here, not you."

Snape crossed his legs and raised an eyebrow, as though he were saying, _challenge accepted._ "If you have the desire to go to the Headmaster and _whine_ about it, go right ahead and waste his time. Until then, you'll follow my directions."

Harry glowered at him mutely, feeling Neville's scared-rabbit gaze flitting between both of them.

Snape met Harry's gaze levelly, one side of his mouth twitching up slightly. "Very good. Now, let's continue. During normal school weeks, you and Draco are not to meet during the day, or during any week nights. Your potions grades are despicable, so it would be more than reasonable to set aside every Saturday evening under the guise of remedial classes, but it will be trickier to find an excuse for Draco. You two can use that time to… _cuddle_ or something…"

If it weren't so terribly awkward, Harry would've laughed at the blatant aversion to _cuddling_, or whatever else he'd insinuated.

"If your current state is anything to go by, however, we will likely have to set aside a weeknight in order to avoid the two of you sneaking out on your own – and maximizing your chances of getting caught, might I add. Additionally-"

Neville let out a high-pitched shriek and toppled out of his chair with an astounding _thud_, causing Harry and Snape to jump and go for their wands.

"What happened?" Harry scanned the room for any Death Eaters, hippogriffs, or other beasts worthy of such a reaction.

Neville, gibbering, pointed at a shelf that was approximately eye-level to one who was seated. It took a moment to find the particular pair of jars that Neville was gesturing at, but once Harry discovered them he leapt to his feet with a disgusted shout.

In each jar was a human eye with the nerves still attached suspended in sludgy, grey, transparent-looking fluid. Each had an iris the color of dried blood, and both were staring ominously at Neville's trembling form.

"Oh, that." Snape sounded bored again. "Baby troll eyes. Obscenely difficult to obtain… Oh, get off the floor, Longbottom, they're eyes, not teeth. They can't _eat_ you."

Neville stood up hurriedly and got back into his chair. He stared straight ahead at a shelf of books, doing his damndest to not look at any more of the glass vials. Harry sat too, slowly, sending one more wary glance at the eyes before turning back to Snape.

The professor's smile held a bit of smug amusement. "Shall we continue?"

* * *

><p><em>Wednesday<em>

"Can't believe him," Harry muttered to Neville at breakfast. "Two nights a week, maximum? It's absurd. It's like he's become our jailer or something."

To his left, Neville shrugged slightly, glancing around their table anxiously. "He's just being cautious. I know it must be hard, but-" Seamus laughed loudly a few seats down and Neville jumped. "Harry, do you think we might talk about this later?"

"Fine," Harry mumbled, sneaking a glance across the Great Hall. Draco was listening to something that an upset Pansy Parkinson was saying, nodding occasionally. It didn't look as though he'd touched his food.

"Stop looking," Neville hissed in a slight panic, and Harry looked down, annoyed.

On his other side, Ron was snapping at Hermione about something regarding their previous potions class. Harry had been partnered with Neville, and he wasn't exactly sure what he'd missed.

"I don't know why you're so upset, Ron," Hermione blustered. She wasn't meeting his eyes, focusing instead on buttering her toast, but the splotches of color high on her cheekbones were more than enough to indicate that she was more upset than she sounded. "I only miscalculated the measurements by half an ounce, the potion was still nearly perfect, Professor Snape did not indicate that he was displeased with it-"

"I'm just saying," Ron spoke tightly, his knuckles white, "that you could have done a little less staring at Harry, and maybe we would've done better."

Harry, Neville, and Hermione stared at him in shock for a few moments before Hermione spoke up, her voice a bit shaky. "Firstly, Ron, we have not even received our _grades_ yet, and secondly, I was only worrying because Harry and Neville's cauldron _exploded_-"

Ron snorted loudly, his jaw tight, and Hermione flinched as he stood and stepped over their bench to walk out of the Great Hall altogether. Hermione made a small choking noise as she watched him go.

"What's up with him?" Seamus called from down the row, but none of them answered him.

Neville tapped Harry's shoulder, his face apprehensive. "You don't think he knows-?"

Harry sent him a sharp look before turning back to Hermione. "Do you have any idea why he's so upset?"

Hermione was quiet, appearing to blink furiously and steady herself before returning to her breakfast, scowling. "Oh, he's just being _Ron_, Harry. He's likely peeved because I didn't pass him the eggs or something." Her voice has high-pitched and quavering slightly, but she showed no signs of rescinding her words or otherwise explaining Ron's behavior.

Harry nodded mutely, ducking his head to finish his own breakfast. He could feel Neville's gaze on the back of his head, but he didn't return it.

Thusly, he didn't notice the dainty, brown owl's approach until it landed in front of him, toppling his pumpkin juice as it flapped frantically for balance. Harry cursed as the liquid dripped onto the bench and his trousers, grabbing a napkin to dab at it while Hermione took the owl, detached the letter, and offered the creature a bread crust in return. It gulped down the scrap and took flight without waiting for a replying letter.

"It's for you, Harry," Hermione handed the crisp envelope to him, grimacing at the sodden cloth in his hands. "You should probably change. I could try to spell it off, but it's a bit risky while you're still wearing them…."

"Thanks," Harry accepted the letter. "I'd better hurry if I'm going to make it to Herbology on time."

Hermione nodded and waved him off. "We'll save you a seat. And," her voice cracked. "If you see Ron, tell him I'm saving one for him too, alright?"

"Yeah, of course," Harry assured her. She nodded again, facing her plate absently. The wrinkle in her forehead made it obvious that she was thinking deeply about the morning's events. With a wave to Neville, Harry set off towards the entry hall and, from there, the dormitory. The cold air seeping in from the enormous doors made the fabric sticking to his thighs even more uncomfortable, and he hastened his already-rapid pace.

It wasn't until he was halfway there that he recalled the parchment he held in his hand. Not breaking his stride, he glanced at the inscription on the front. It simply said _Harry_ in a familiar handwriting.

Harry's heart leapt, and he tore it open as he hurried on, turning into the corridor that housed the Fat Lady as he glanced around him to ensure his solitude.

_Harry,_ it read, _I apologize for not reaching you sooner, but things have been going strangely since our last conversation. If possible, I would like to use the mirrors to communicate tomorrow night around ten o'clock in the evening. Do not respond by owl- the house is being observed._

_-Snuffles._

Harry felt a mixture of apprehension and excitement swirling in his chest. He missed Sirius, and he was looking forward to finally "seeing" him; still, their last talk had been impossibly awkward, and Harry worried just a bit about whether or not Sirius would bring it up in their imminent conversation.

"Codswallop Muffins," he muttered absently to the Fat Lady, who nodded primly and swung open. Once he had clambered through the portal, it took him a moment to tear himself from his thoughts of Sirius and remember why he'd come back. After it occurred to him, he took the stairs to the boys dormitory two at a time-

_Smack!_

Harry let out a yelp as he ran directly into someone coming down, their combined momentum forcing him off of the steps, and the pair went tumbling down a flight of stairs to land sprawling in the common room. Dazed, it took Harry a moment to process what exactly had happened, and yet another passed before he sat up gingerly. Ron was beside him, already sitting up and rubbing a red mark on his forehead.

"Hey," Harry muttered, poking a blotchy red patch on his upper arm that would no doubt evolve into one hell of a bruise. "You okay?"

Ron got up, brushing himself off with a scowl. "Fine," He barked. He looked as though he was about to leave without further commentary before he stopped abruptly, looking at something on the floor.

Harry followed his gaze, and his heart jumped into his throat. It was the letter.

Ron began to reach down to grab it, but Harry made a wild dive and snatched it up before his friend's hand could get there. His heart pounded. If Sirius did bring up the last time they'd spoken during their mirror conversation, Harry desperately didn't want Ron or Hermione to be there.

His friend seemed to have taken the gesture in the worst way. His face was thunderous, and he didn't say a word before stomping out of the common room, limping slightly and leaving Harry staring after him. Harry was sure that if the portrait could've been slammed shut, Ron would have done just that.

* * *

><p><em>Thursday<em>

Harry and Hermione walked the darkening grounds slowly on the way in from Care of Magical Creatures. Ron hadn't said a word to either of them all day, and most of the day before, and neither of them knew what to do about it. It wasn't like Ron was opening up about his feelings, or their mysterious causes.

They were halfway up the hill when Hermione spoke. "What's going on with you, Harry?"

He looked up at her swiftly. He'd assumed that they were both moping silently about Ron's moodiness. Maybe Hermione had hoped to surprise him with the question- if so, it was certainly working. "What do you mean?"

"Don't give me that," She snapped tiredly, quietly. "You're being an arse, and Ron's being an arse, and in times like these, we can't afford to lie to one another."

Harry walked silently for a moment, collecting his thoughts. "I haven't been doing very well in Herbology lately. I didn't want you to know, because you've been so good about helping Ron and me with all of our classes. Neville's been helping me some nights- you know how he loves that class. And other times, I've needed to go to Dumbledore's office."

Hermione let out a frustrated sound. "Dumbledore has trusted me and Ron for years. Why isn't he allowing you to tell us about whatever's going on?"

Harry felt a painful pang of guilt in his chest, right above his heart. "He does trust you! He really does, Hermione, it's just…" Harry dragged a hand through his hair, struggling for the right words. "Neither of us wants you or Ron to get hurt, and Dumbledore thinks that the less you know, the less danger you'll be in."

There. That wasn't too much of a lie.

Hermione was quiet for a while, processing Harry's words. The only sound was the crunching of old snow and dead grass beneath their boots.

"Fine," she said at last. "I guess I'll find out when Dumbledore allows it." She shot Harry a sullen look. "But don't think for a second that I'm okay with this, Harry."

"Duly noted," Harry muttered. They were almost to the doors when Hermione's foot lost traction on a patch of ice; her arms pinwheeled and she nearly tumbled to the ground, but Harry grasped her hand and pulled her upright. She staggered into his chest, grabbing his shoulder to regain her balance.

A streak of light appeared on the snow as one of the main doors swung open hesitantly, then came to a jarring stop. Harry glanced up, startled by the figure standing there.

Ron's face was stony as he stared at the pair of them, still wearing his overcoat and Gryffindor-scarlet scarf. He snorted once, turned, and left without a word.

Harry sighed- Ron seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

"He needs to figure out what's stuck up his arse," Hermione muttered, heading for the door. Despite the situation, Harry stifled a chuckle and followed.

* * *

><p>Sirius tapped his wand idly against his palm, staring at the mirror that was propped up at the foot of the bed. It was two minutes until ten o'clock, and he was nervous.<p>

"You realize you're worrying over nothing?" Lucius rumbled from the doorway. He pushed his hair away from his face, grey eyes gleaming in slight amusement. "Just don't mention last time, and get to the point. It's Harry Potter, for crying out loud, not Greyback or Bellatrix."

"You aren't helping, Lucius." Sirius wore his old scarlet robe from his school days over a pair of fraying, fading black pajama bottoms. His hair had been combed and distressed and combed again, and now stuck up stubbornly on one side- the unfortunate side effect of Sirius threading his fingers through it anxiously. "You realize you can't say a bloody word once he's on the other side, right? He'll never let it go."

"Firstly, I'm not daft. Secondly, he'll find out sooner rather than later, and thirdly…" Lucius paused, rubbing the shining, silver snake's head on the top of his cane as he mused to himself. "Actually, I don't believe that I have a third point. Just don't worry so much. If it will put your mind at ease, I'll even go downstairs and make some tea so you won't be so distracted."

"Yes, because you are _so_ distracting," Sirius muttered. Lucius smirked, as though saying silently, _indeed I am_, before turning and heading down the hall towards the kitchen. Sirius let out a sigh. If he was being honest, Lucius would have been terribly distracting. He was dressed especially well that day in soft, pale grey robes that fit awfully well and made his eyes glow, not to mention the scary, sexy cane.

"Sirius?"

He blinked at the empty doorway for a disconcerting moment before glancing down at the mirror and jumping. "Harry!"

His godson looked tired and a little sad, but as he met Sirius' gaze a wide, genuine grin broke out on his face. "How've you been?"

"I'm just fine- how're things on your end?"

Harry shrugged, grimacing for a moment. "Eh. Ron's being a prat, but everything else is going well. I don't have a whole lot of time, though. What's going on?"

Sirius reached up to run a hand through his hair, but he stopped himself at the last second. "Er. Well, there's quite a lot I'd like to tell you, Harry, and now isn't the time or place for it. I was hoping that you might want to stay here for a few days after Christmas instead of going to Hogwarts right away."

"Oh- oh!" Harry nodded, smiling uncertainly. "I'm not sure… I'll have to check with Dumbledore-"

"I've already spoken with him. He said that transportation wouldn't be a problem, and that it was fine with him." Harry didn't seem quite convinced, and Sirius added, "He also told me to tell you that he had already taken care of the others who were going to be staying over break. I didn't understand why it was important, but he said you would."

Harry nodded more firmly this time, "In that case, I'd be more than happy to! I should really talk to Dumbledore, though," he muttered the last bit.

There were a muted thump and loud voices on Harry's end, and his head twisted sharply as he turned to look. "Oh, Merlin. Sirius, I've got to go… I'll see you over break, yeah?"

"It's a plan." Harry smiled back at Sirius before his mirror went dark, and Sirius sat back, apprehension and happiness fighting one another for dominance in his chest.

"That was quick."

Sirius jumped wildly, facing the door once more. "For Merlin's sake, Lucius…"

The blonde entered and made his way to perch on the side of the bed, offering Sirius a teacup. "You did fine. I thought you might add something more sentimental at the end, but that is merely an opinion…"

Sirius' chest contracted. "This isn't the time for what-ifs."

Lucius rested a hand on his shoulder. "I'm well aware." There was a long silence, interrupted only by the crackle of the fire and the low, windy sound of Sirius blowing on his tea. "You don't have to do this," Lucius murmured. "Not so soon."

Sirius shook his head, smiling sadly. "This isn't the time for hesitation, either."

* * *

><p><em>Friday<em>

Harry hadn't felt this strung-out since Voldemort had dragged him out of a maze and into a graveyard. He felt physically sick from the stress. It was just one thing after another-

Dealing constantly with Ron's unforeseen angst.

Lying to Hermione more and more.

Not being able to look Professor Snape in the eye.

Fretting about what on earth Sirius was going to try to talk about with him.

Being unable to speak to, look at, or otherwise interact with Draco in any way whatsoever.

By midday on Friday, Harry couldn't even think about eating. Instead he went to the common room and sat by the fire, counting the moments until he could see Draco again as people bustled around him. The majority of the school was packing to go home over the holidays since the train left at seven-thirty sharp that evening.

Someone walked in front of the fire and stopped, forcing Harry to stop staring into the flames and look up, blinking, to see who it was. Neville smiled uncertainly at him. "Hey, Harry. You okay?"

He shrugged. Neville was a nice guy, but Harry really didn't want to get into this with him.

Taking a quick look around them, Neville pulled up an unoccupied chair and sat down unbidden. In a low voice, he asked, "Do you miss him?"

Harry sighed, massaging his temples. "It hurts like hell, if you must know. I've only a few more hours, though. There's no sense in losing control now."

Neville looked on patiently, waiting for Harry to say more. When it became apparent that he wasn't going to, Neville spoke again, "Hermione asked me if I've been helping you with Herbology."

"Of course she did," Harry muttered.

"I told her yes, you were miserable at it, et cetera, et cetera, and I think she's satisfied for now. At least you don't have to worry too much about that, eh?"

Harry met Neville's wide, eager-to-please eyes, and forced a grin. "Thanks, Neville. I owe you big time."

"Yeah, you do," Neville smiled back. Then, glancing at the clock on the wall, he stood. "I promised I'd run down to the greenhouses to help Professor Sprout with a fire-eating water lily from Jamaica before my next class, so I'd better be off!"

Harry watched him go, glad that he wasn't in his friend's shoes. He'd had quiet enough of the demonic vegetation, _thankyouverymuch_.

According to the clock, there was still a full half-hour left in the lunch period. Harry stood, stretched, and began to make his way through the crowded room towards the portrait hole. He would become overly restless if he stayed still much longer, which would make classes even more unbearable. He was halfway to the door when a foot purposefully strayed into his path and sent him crashing to the floor.

Anger flooded through Harry, adding another emotion to the towering, teetering stack, and Harry got to his feet with fire coursing through his veins. Ron stood off to one side, arms folded defiantly.

Without thinking about it, Harry stepped forward and gave him a shove. "What the _bloody hell's_ wrong with you?"

Ron snarled, pushing Harry's hands away fiercely. "Nothing at all, mate."

"Don't give me that shit," Harry snapped. Around them, the common room had gone eerily quiet. "You've been acting like a git all week and you know it. You've been horrible to me, you've been horrible to Hermione-"

"Oh, so she needs you to protect her now, does she?" Ron exclaimed. His ears were going steadily red. "That's how it works now?"

Harry stared at him, fists clenched at his sides. "What the hell are you going on about?"

"Oh, _come on_, Harry. I saw your emotions, remember?"

Harry's brow furrowed. He had absolutely no idea where Ron was headed with this, but his ignorance only seemed to make Ron angrier.

"For Merlin's sake, Harry, stop pretending that you don't understand. I _know,_ alright? I know all about you and Hermione. I saw the cloud, Harry- love? Shame? You two are seeing each other behind my back! She's always asking about you when you're not around, and she's always worrying about you in classes, and bloody _hell_, Harry, I _saw _you two last night! I get it, alright? I figured it out. I'm not an idiot!"

It was all too much. This, on top of everything else, was so horribly _wrong_, so incredibly _absurd_, that Harry just couldn't take it.

He laughed.

He laughed a little at first, just a tired, hysterical chuckle, and the enraged confusion that resulted on Ron's face only made him cackle harder. He doubled over, the guffaws pouring out of him uncontrollably, each one releasing more of the tension and stress until Harry was on his knees, tears in his eyes as he howled with derisive laughter.

Above him, Ron seemed entirely lost. His anger hadn't dissipated altogether, but he didn't seem to know what to do with his best friend hooting on the floor. The rest of the crowd filling the common room seemed to be experiencing a similar dilemma. Harry could've sworn he heard someone wonder aloud if he should be taken to the Headmaster, or straight to St. Mungo's psychiatric ward. For some reason, Harry found this funny.

Finally, Harry wiped the tears from his eyes and cheeks, feeling a little hollow, a little silly, and a whole lot better. Looking up at Ron, he gave one last chortle before saying, "Ron, I'm not dating Hermione. I have no feelings for her whatsoever."

Ron slowly flushed to the roots of his gingery hair. "Ah," he said faintly. "Really?"

"Really."

"Ah."

"You said that already," Harry leaned against the back of one of the cushy sofas.

"Yes, I did." Ron meandered over to Harry in a daze, sitting on the floor beside him. He was silent. Then, "You really aren't in love with her?"

Harry shook his head, staring at the fire again. "I'm really not in love with her."

Ron sighed heavily as the students around them gradually continued their conversations. "Well, that's just perfect."

* * *

><p>Harry took the stairs two at a time, ignoring the stitch in his side and the pain in his half-frozen feet. Saying goodbye to Ron and Hermione had taken longer than he's thought, and he was late.<p>

Skidding around the final corner, Harry screeched to a stop in front of the empty patch of wall. As he focused as hard as he could on it, he did his best to catch his breath and slow his pounding heart. He didn't accomplish much.

Much too slowly, the wall puffed out slightly and morphed into a pair of rounded, intricately carved stone doors. The knobs arrived last, and Harry twisted them open as soon as they did.

Inside, the room was lit with soft, butter-colored lamps that were spread throughout the room, highlighting the velvety chairs, the round mahogany table, and the dark green canopy bed.

Harry paid this no mind as he flew across the room and into Draco's arms.

The blonde let out a huff as Harry crashed into him, knocking him slightly off-balance. But he recovered quickly, and soon Harry was being encircled by a pair of perfect arms.

He let out a shaky breath. "I missed you."

Draco's hands rubbed his back soothingly. "I missed you, too. And I still love you, even though you're crazy."

Harry pulled back, frowning even as he worshipped Draco's face with his eyes. It seemed like he had managed to get even more better-looking at some point in the week. "Crazy?"

"The news of your lunchtime breakdown traveled fast," Draco teased, his eyes twinkling.

Before Harry could dispute this, he found his lips occupied in a much-preferred way. Sighing happily, he pressed closer to Draco, feeling better than he had all week.

_I love you._

* * *

><p>Sirius settled back into the mound of pillows that had been amassed on his bed. He was practically pinned to the mattress beneath the endless blankets, and when Lucius approached him with another, he sent him an exasperated look. "I don't need another."<p>

"I'll be the judge of that," Lucius muttered, draping the afghan over the foot of the bed.

"You've done a fine job, Lucius," Dumbledore told him from his perch in a conjured armchair by the side of the bed. "But I think it's about time we got started."

Lucius rubbed at his chin, sending Sirius a beseeching look. "You're sure about this? Tonight is the night?"

"I'm sure. Now come on." Sirius glanced from Lucius to Dumbledore and back. "It's about time that I regained some memories, don't you think?"

* * *

><p><strong>Ah, a cliffy. You all hate me now, I know, but if you review, I'll write faster! )<strong>

**Thank you all for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it!**

**Sincerely,**

**Jester.**


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